


Blood Bond: Repository of Descent

by Talonticus



Series: Blood Bond [3]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drama, F/F, Gen, Human Politics, Humor, Intrigue, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, OC-centric, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: Being a member of House Vlasic can be both a boon and a burden, depending on the circumstances. The name is famous across the various human nations of Tyria and beyond, but due to the nature of its old leaders from generations ago, certain secrets have to be maintained, in order to protect the world from the darkness it cannot know.At times, such secrets may attract prying eyes, especially of those with malevolent intentions.Sovica has been gone from home for many months and while she hoped for a lengthier stay, she knew it wouldn't last forever. Her duties would always come calling.Luckily, the guild stands ready to back her up, as they make the journey to Broadhollow barony together.[On hiatus.]





	1. Shredded White

**Author's Note:**

> **Main characters:** Sovica Vlasic (Female Human Elementalist OC), Daeynwe (Female Sylvari Thief/Warrior OC), Katla Svalen (Female Norn Guardian OC), Derija Vlasic (Female Human Necromancer OC), Zodwa Vlasic (Female Human Minister OC)  
>  **Secondary characters:** Razok Cogfang (Male Charr Engineer OC), Rea Svalen (Female Norn Ranger OC), Ovillus (Male Asura Necromancer OC), Countess Anise, Lishan Vlasic (Female Human Warrior OC)  
>  **Minor characters:** Maleah (Female Human Thief OC), Baron Dimas Fevarro (Male Human OC), Xitle (Male Human Mesmer OC), Kylian Beaumont Vlasic (Male Human OC), Daytor (Male Human Warrior OC)
> 
> _Hello, Claire Talon or Talonticus here with another Blood Bond story. This is a direct followup from Summit, but begins a few months later._   
>  _Compared to previous stories, I haven't listed Razok, Rea or Ovillus as main characters, because this story focuses on events surrounding House Vlasic. This means Sovica, her sister Lishan, her cousin Derija (who appeared in a few chapters of["Chasing Night's Shadows"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587959/chapters/30799722)) and her mother Zodwa. Kylian, their father, will also be partially involved._
> 
> _The main elements of the story will be a slight conflict between Sovica and Zodwa regarding her running away, the romance with Daeynwe (and the inherent family issues), certain Krytan Ministry problems, Vlasic history and lastly, a new romance that I'm creating between Katla and Derija. I've been planning this for quite a while, so yeah, it'll be interesting to write. That's why Katla and Derija are listed as main characters too._   
>  _Just like in previous fics, this story will have the involvement of a canon character, with this one being Countess Anise. She's one of my faves from the game, so I hope to be able to depict her well._
> 
> _And just like in previous fics, you can check out[my blog](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/guild-wars-2-characters.html) for pictures of the important main and secondary characters. A few of them have gotten new hairstyles and stuff, so I've added a second picture. Also, the armors used are not necessarily what they actually wear in the story._
> 
> _Note: This fic stars three black women as protagonists. I'm a white writer, so I welcome any feedback from fans of color regarding them._
> 
> _Anyway, I hope you enjoy it._

_1324 AE – Nebo Terrace, Gendarran Fields, Kryta_

It is an unmistakable truth that humans have been on a slow decline for a long time. The veracity of such claims has been proven in many sections of the world, from Tyria and Elona, and even all the way down in Cantha.  
Since the destruction of the original Lion’s Arch and the migration of its citizens to the north, Kryta has been a somewhat faltering nation. Much of its territory is contested from various fronts and opponents, and it’s sometimes difficult to determine exactly where to mark its borders.

The Gendarran Fields is one such region, which is often disputed between the kingdom and those who would see themselves as independent. Previously, there could be no doubt that it belonged to the crown, especially when Lion’s Arch was the capital, but with their retreat, others began to challenge this claim. Now, it is split, and the lines are drawn everywhere; Krytan nobles, free land owners, the Captain’s Council, the Vigil – everyone wants a piece and proclaim their own right to seize it.

A small territory within the Fields that often endures hardships from its enemies is a place called Nebo Terrace, located to the west of Lake Gendarr. It is both a town and a barony, one that faces regular bouts of troubles due to the fact that it is found just south of the Bloodfields, lands claimed by the Harathi centaurs. For this reason, most of the people who live in that area not only gratefully allows the Seraph to march through their neighborhoods and control their boundaries, but they also put their faith in the community’s actual leader, Baron Dimas Fevarro.

The Baron is a man in his early 50s, handsome, charismatic and very well respected by the townsfolk for keeping everyone together and always being ready to offer a helping hand. He is somewhat recognized in the Fields overall, for refusing to bow down to the centaurs’ demands, but rarely involves himself with actual politics, except as an audience. In some ways, that only grants him more admiration.  
He can often be seen walking the streets of his land, talking with the denizens and occasionally helping them out with various tasks. Few have a reason to question his integrity. This is precisely why he has been able to utilize his home as a refuge for those who his heart is truly bound to and which he would do anything for. No one would ever suspect it.

As night settles upon the land on this day, two individuals move discreetly through the streets, traversing the shadows and avoiding any late-night contact. They have a goal, a purpose, and no one must comprehend the true extent of their appearance.  
Both of them are wandering towards the Fevarro manor wearing cloaks with hoods, ones that they can easily disappear into. With every step, they cautiously view their surroundings, making sure that no one follows them, but also so that it’s not all too noticeable. When they arrive at a backdoor of the house, they knock in a specific way, a code that only one man can identify. Half a minute later, Dimas opens up for them and they walk inside.

Within, the duo takes off their hoods, revealing their visages in the light of the candle that Dimas has on a silver-crafted holder. While Dimas himself is a man of average height and build, with medium brown skin, shoulder-length black hair and clean-shaven cheeks, the first person in front of him is a woman, possibly in her late 30s or early 40s. Her skin is pale, her short hair is red and she’s the shortest of the three in height. Her face can at best be described as stern or hardened and it’s likely that she’s of Ascalonian descent.  
The other is a younger man with light brown skin, brown hair held in a long ponytail and a thin goatee beard. His appearance is slightly softer than the other two.

Once the door closes, they nod at each other in a brief greeting, before Dimas opens his mouth.  
“Is it true then?”, he asks quietly, mostly directed at the woman.

She glances around the area, seeing how this section in the back is somewhat less ornately decorated than most of his house, as it isn’t really meant to attract guests. She eventually shakes her head.  
“Not here.”

He sighs, displaying hints of disappointment, but realizes that she’s correct. They decide to proceed further into the house, following a thin empty corridor to the left, until they reach a small room. In here, they spot a few seats and a small table, along with shelves of books, possibly as some type of relaxation room. None of this is of interest to the group, as they instead approach a small stone figure depicting a lion, which is placed on a small pedestal, close to the wall in the back. When Dimas pulls at it, a hatch slides open on the floor, revealing a set of stairs that leads into the depths of some type of underground lair beneath the house. When all three have gone down, they shut it with another button.

The path down here is somewhat dusty due to not have seen much use as of late, especially not from any cleaners, but there’s also hardly any objects in the way. A dark stone corridor sprawls out before them, with holders upon the walls for torches and several inconspicuous doors connected to rooms of similar sizes. Dimas goes first, due to holding the candle, but the woman gestures at a door at the far side.  
“We should grab something to drink. Need to wet my throat before we begin.”

Dimas looks annoyed and rolls his eyes.  
“We don’t have time for that.”

She raises her eyebrow somewhat skeptically.  
“Says who? There is much to discuss, and I think we can all use some refreshments. If you won’t, then I’ll get it myself.”

Before she can leave, he grabs her shoulder and turn her back around.  
“Maleah, tell me already! Have you found it or not?”

His move makes her shove his hand away and aim a frown in his direction. Seeing how adamant he appears to be about this makes her sigh and she realizes this isn’t a time for games.  
“Fine.”  
She whirls towards a wall and proceeds into one of the other rooms, letting the two men follow her. In here, they find a mahogany table, some chairs placed around it and a few cabinets with parchments and tableware.  
“Xitle, close the door, will you?”

The youngest human shrugs and does as she asks.  
“Why do you always have to issue the orders?”

Maleah ignores him, slides down into a seat, crosses her arms and turns a sharp gaze towards Dimas.  
“Yes, dear Baron, I have located it.”

“ _We_ have located it”, Xitle insists.

Dimas is still standing, with a rather amazed look on his face.  
“You’re sure?”

“Positive”, Maleah confirms. “Xitle and I searched through all types of tomes and scrolls in the Priory’s outpost to the west. There can be no doubt that what we found was evidence.”

Dimas manages to appear both intrigued and distressed simultaneously, slowly running his hand over his cheeks. He’s not sure what to think right now.  
“Tell me more.”

“Sit down first. This will be a lot to take in, I bet.”

The Baron follows her suggestion and also puts down the candle with its holder on the table, but Xitle remains standing on the short side of it, closest to the door.  
“Your note said that it was here, in Gendarr?”

Maleah folds her arms and nods confidently.  
“We haven’t just pinpointed the region, Baron, but the exact origin too. Our new target is the Broadbollow barony and the manor.”

He widens his eyes in slight astonishment, almost disbelief.  
“Wait, what? You’re saying it’s _in_ the Vlasic estate?”

“Precisely.”

Dimas lowers his gaze to the table, moving it around searchingly.  
“But…no, that can’t be. I’ve been there numerous times, all across its halls. How could they hide it inside the house so effectively?”

She shrugs in response.  
“That’s something we haven’t been able to discover yet, but we know it’s in the manor. This is why we have to go there and open the enchanted container ourselves.”

He looks directly into her eyes then, brown meeting green.  
“Sounds like you’re talking about a specific place.”

“I am. According to the old tomes, the weapon is kept in something that we could only identify as the ‘Repository of Descent’. It was secretly built long ago and hidden from outsiders. Their House’s founder, Miljana Vlasic and her wife Sayaki – two of the Ascendants – locked it away in this storage facility and as far as anyone knows, it’s still held within. Seeing what those scum believe, it’s rather unlikely that anyone has unearthed it since, yes?”

Dimas considers this idea and slowly nods to confirm that he agrees.  
“True. The Ascendants didn’t look kindly upon us back then.”

Maleah clenches her fist.  
“They’re still the enemy, Dimas, don’t forget it. They murdered enough of us to prove that.”

He holds up his hands, to alleviate any growing doubt.  
“Don’t worry, I agree. I’m definitely with you on the fact that we need to act. But if this has been hidden for so long, are you sure the family is even aware? The Ascendants must have feared the innate power and would be unlikely to spread the knowledge around.”

She calms herself somewhat and ponders the notion.  
“We can’t be certain of that, of course, but we’ll have to conduct a thorough search. Xitle’s magic will come in handy for this purpose.”

From the side, they see how the same man inclines his head.  
“Very possible, yes, but I assume that this ‘Repository’ is protected by powerful spells of its own. If that weren’t the case, we’d have detected it long ago.  
And then there’s the problem of actually getting inside the manor. It’s not like we can just waltz in and ask to see their basement, right? Or wherever it’s kept.”

“Perhaps”, says Malaeh and shifts her attention back to Dimas, “but you must have some trick up your sleeve, Baron. You know the matriarch herself, don’t you? No strings that you can pull over there?”

Dimas takes a deep breath and puts his hands together.  
“Well…Baroness Zodwa is reasonable and often willing to invite guests, but she’s also a very serious and steadfast woman. If we ask for a visit, I know she’d be polite enough to accept, but she’d likely instruct her guards to stay vigilant in case we begin to wander.”

“Hmm. Maybe if you and Xitle create some distractions, I could-“

“Wait, I have an idea”, Dimas interrupts her. “There’s an event coming up in a few weeks that might help us – a Ministry conference. It happens every few years and every time it does, it attracts a lot of attention. Nobles, their retinue and people from all over Gendarr and Lion’s Arch will be there. The inherent chaos of such a gathering might be enough to occupy the guards. If we’re careful, we could take that opportunity to investigate under their noses.”

A sly smile forms on Maleah’s lips and she nods eagerly.  
“Excellent, that’s exactly what we need. Can you get us invitations?”

“Definitely, won’t be a problem. I might even be able to ask Zodwa to grant us a few rooms to sleep inside the actual manor, as guests.”

Maleah’s expression grows into a grin and leans back in a rather satisfied fashion, placing her hands on the armrests.  
“Splendid. Then we have our plan, gentlemen. If you distract the family, Xitle and I will scour the house every chance we get. Mark my words, the gods will be most pleased with our success, once they return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, nothing from the guild in this chapter, but this was just the prologue._   
> 


	2. Paramount progression

Just like the rest of Tyria, time flows in an erratically linear fashion around Ascalon. The seasons come and go, fleeting as they are, but they are not static entities, do not follow the same rules upon every arrival. The weather, while familiar, alters and fluctuates, growing and shrinking in capacity and consequence. While the rain might pour down with ardent pace one day, the next may be no more than a gentle drizzle, brushing the soil with a compassionate caress.

It’s been a couple of months since the end of the peace summit held in the center of the Fields of Ruin, and spring is finally rearing its mild and moderately enjoyable head.  
During that time, the Blood Bond guild has remained in the region, despite certain indications that a letter from Kryta might be received sooner or later. Instead of steering their attention towards human territory, they chose to wander in the opposite direction. This road would eventually lead the group into charr-controlled lands, an area that some of them had not yet experienced.

Razok was the one to guide them past the walls of Deathblade’s Watch, which ended up being a most enlightening affair for all, particularly the young human noblewoman.  
Despite her origin and race, the Legion had no qualms about giving admission to Sovica. In fact, they were fairly enthralled by the prospect, due to her reputation. The word regarding the speech she held at the summit has been conveyed to many sections of the land. One may question whether two particular officers had anything to do with this outcome, but the answer is inconclusive. Regardless, approval from most of the felines were soaring and new avenues to potential futures had become accessible.

While a lasting peace has yet to actually be established, it’s undeniable now that it has discovered fertile soil and can gradually be cultivated, partially due to the efforts of Sovica and Blood Bond.  
As for the visit to the Watch, it was undoubtedly unique and perhaps even somewhat startling. Strolling through the streets gave the elementalist an opportunity to perceive elements of charr society that she had never truly imagined. All prior references to the nature of charr civilization were based on reports, documents, tomes and books written and produced by humans. This sojourn provided a more direct approach, insight into reality and despite certain reservations, her heart is opening up.

After departing from the hospitality of the Iron Legion, their path would not be directed back towards Ebonhawke, not immediately. Through correspondence with two Priory Magisters, they were invited to an excavation of old human ruins, an offer they could not refuse. Following Veilidh and Sieran’s guidance, they went on a trek across not just forlorn Ascalonian aspects, but even a few remnants of long lost cultures from a bygone era. Who they were and what this discovery implies is still subject to speculation, but Sov was just satisfied that they could be present at all.

While archaeological endeavors were the foremost reason for their involvement with this expedition, none of them could overlook the fact that Veil naturally wanted to have her precious little Petal in her company for a few more days, before they would have to separate yet again. It had been up to Daeynwe to decide whether she wished to permit the opportunity, but it was not an especially arduous choice. The journey would not be endless, and all it would entail was spending quality time with her beloved sister. An easy conclusion, really.

And so, after another few weeks, the guild turned its focus to the southwest once more and the solemnly sturdy and looming gates of Ebonhawke. Their arrival was, astoundingly, hailed with fanfare and celebration. Unwittingly, the guild was considered heroes of the region.  
For their actions and success in preserving deliberations, the group was not just commended, but given free housing and feasts in their honor, at least for a short time. The humans of the city-state wanted to prove how grateful they were, and this appeared to be the most prudent method. It was evident that not every citizen conceded with what they had accomplished, as grumbling existed in shrouded corners, but the general atmosphere was positive.

During their stay, the group has not strayed from the limits of the city by much. The two more academically-minded members had rapidly seized the opportunity to study the unexpectedly vast halls of the Ebonhawke State Library, an institution that has had very few outside visitors in the last few centuries. What could be found here was not merely literature and documentation crafted at Ebonhawke’s founding, but vestiges of pre-Searing Ascalonian files and texts, items that had been brought by refugees and migrants early on in its existence, before the Foefire destroyed the last of the old Kingdom.

Luckily, the others did not have to be restless either. Rea opted to join human hunters that roamed the surrounding wilderness for intriguing and fresh prey, which granted her increased knowledge of techniques she hadn’t yet studied; Katla aided the military with refining some of their skills which needed some polishing, principally when facing hulking foes; Raz extended a cordial offer to teach some inquisitive humans regarding charr engineering design and what could be improved upon at their construction sites; and Daeyne elected to expand her roguish aptitude, to develop abilities she had begun learning long ago, chiefly under the tutelage of Caithe.

This is where the team can currently be found. Comfort and serenity are emotions that have prolonged this little break, but unrest is silently growing. The desire to travel is gaining prominence.  
Today, Sovica is once more in the library. Part of her intention is to return a couple of tomes she had previously borrowed, but she’s also searching for new academic paths, new ventures to explore and extend her intellectual prowess.

Sov’s appearance has altered somewhat since the summit, though the sources of change are limited to specific regions. Her body is often adorned with various elegant and pleasing attires, swapping articles every now and then, but one element endures – she tends to choose combinations of violet shades, laced with gold. The most apparent shift is the fact that her hair is now back in its original state, with flowing black curls. They are not too lengthy at this time, but do frame her face rather nicely.

Another whose exterior has gained a new form is none other than her sylvari girlfriend. Her hairstyle is dissimilar from its old presentation, though this process is not the same as it was for Sov. For sylvari, she had explained there is a basis of emotional and dispositional essences, rather than mere eventual growth.  
The leaves at the crown have retained their red color, but have marginally solidified, and grown into a slightly asymmetrical shape, hanging over the left side of her head. Though, the measurement is still fairly short, not even reaching her shoulders.  
Compared to her beloved, she continues to wear quite tight outfits, but she has reinforced some sections with pieces of metal for combat purposes and the jacket she’s usually dressed in is longer.

While Sov walks unsuspectingly among the shelves of historical and literary value, Dae sticks to the shadows, scouring all routes for the sight of her sweet noble partner. This is done with a measure of silence, hoping for her approach to remain a secret.  
She eventually spots her quarry, standing by one particular shelf dedicated to publications containing records, notes and commentary on the Great Northern Wall’s conceptualization, construction, usage and lifespan. Of course, what else would she be doing other than indulging her historical curiosity? It’s a hobby, scholarly pursuit and a lifestyle for that woman.

As she browses the names of books, finding it difficult to decide which one to research next, she’s not entirely unaware of what transpires. Dae comes ever closer, tossing and leaping between obstacle after obstacle, confident that she’s being very cunning, and, in some respects, she is. It can hardly be denied that she has revised many agility and dexterity-based maneuvers; none in the guild can claim that they match her speed.

Eventually, Sov becomes aware of the fact she’s being observed. The root causes of this outcome are many – perhaps it’s the inherit reaction to her mental connection with her girlfriend, maybe it’s her magical aptitude or could it be as simple as the fact that her ears are sharper than Dae ever presumed?  
Either way, she glances over her shoulder, hoping to detect whomever dares to spy. This shift is executed on the exact moment that Dae is swapping covers. She really slipped up now, didn’t she?

But, to Sov’s bemusement, there’s no one here. No person has entered her view and she hears no sound either. Did she just imagine this sensation? That wouldn’t be outside of the realm of possibility, of course, but it seems unlikely. She has survived too many hazardous occasions and lurking foes emerging from the shadows in the wilderness across Ascalon to simply gain a false alarm. Is she getting rusty?

Turns out, Dae is more proficient than she might’ve realized. Movements in the shadows erupt on the opposite side of Sov’s position and the mischievous sylvari smirks as she slips her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Her hands squeeze the softer body, attempting to tickle, while her face is set to nuzzle Sov’s neck.  
“Gotcha!”

The elementalist flinches and gasps, dropping a book in the process.  
“Dwayna’s mercy!” is what leaves her lips, shortly before a relieved laughter. She tries to calm herself and places a hand on her girlfriend’s cheek, displaying the contrast between her dark brown skin and the purple hue of the sylvari’s bark.  
“Dammit, Dae, you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

Her already rather smug expression grows into a minor grin, while she nudges her chest into her sweetheart’s back, poking the nose into the smoother hide of Sov’s cheek.  
“Wasn’t that what I just did?”

“…I meant that you shouldn’t, not that you aren’t able to, silly.”

Dae can’t help herself when a giggle escapes her mouth, and she switches from teasing to cuddling.  
“I’m sorry, love. Didn’t intend to scare you or anything. Just wanted to have some fun.”

Sov doesn’t appear aggravated, but she does roll her eyes. After several months together, closing in on a year, she is more than accustomed to Dae’s playful conduct.  
“And this is your idea of fun, is it? Making my heart want to leap out of my chest?”

“Well…your bounce was kinda amusing. And cute.”

“Pfff. There are other ways to make me do that, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” The amber eyes of the rogue shut, and she brushes her lips temptingly over the length of the jawline available to her from this angle.  
“Will you allow me to make amends, my most gracious lady?”

The sly nature hasn’t left her tone, but Sov can play along. For now.  
“Hmm. You have a suggestion for me?”

“Mhm. One that I’m confident you will permit. And enjoy, obviously.”

Her hands descend, but only marginally, seizing the noblewoman’s hips. This is executed in a slow and suggestive manner, sliding across the curvier shape of Sov’s body; at least in comparison to Dae’s more toned build. She gradually spins the human around, letting them end up in face to face. Now with full access, she rests Sov’s back against the shelves, leans in and corners her girlfriend. The legs of the other woman instinctively part, to allow entry.

Sov is caught in a dilemma, of a growing approval and derived pleasure from this entire interaction versus a slight apprehension at its inappropriate location.  
“Hey, watch it”, she complains quietly. “These books are ancient, generations of conserved knowledge for-“

The protest is halted by Dae’s lips locking with hers in an ardent fashion. Despite qualms and censure, Sov still closes her eyes, wraps her arms around her partner’s neck and lets her tongue avidly slide into Dae’s mouth, to tangle with its opposite. She lets herself be embraced and nigh worshipped in the capable hands of her beloved rogue. It’s simultaneously infuriating and delightful, a combination she can only attribute to this connection.  
She can no longer contest how skilled Dae has become with romantic situations and activities. She was fairly awkward on their initial encounters, but now she can almost be described as suave. Almost.

Once it subsides, their eyes remain shut for a few idle moments, before fluttering open. When Sov’s are halfway revealed, she resumes the smile and lightheartedly pokes Dae’s nose.  
“You’re a dangerously dashing flower sometimes.”

That exasperatingly smug curl of her lips seemingly approves of the praise, as it resurfaces. Should’ve never said it.  
“I’m aware. That’s why you adore me so much.”

Sov tilts herself forward and nibbles at Dae’s lower lip, not quite as easily done as on another human, but still plausible.  
“Among other things.”

Dae’s gaze shimmers with desire, acquiescing to the unspoken request and seals their lips into another entanglement. It is shorter this time, but no less sweet. She wants to have an answer to something that prods her curiosity.  
“So, what did you think about my shadow leap? Impressive, right? Been honing that move a lot lately and I feel like I’m making progress.”

“Heh, on that front, I will assent. Sometimes, I genuinely wonder if Lyssa is boosting your prowling flight, just a little.”


	3. Tinge of love

A mere few days go by after the little encounter inside the library, until a new wind of change enters the city and sets events in motion which have been awaited, but forgotten.  
The asura gate to Divinity’s Reach does often receive travelers after it was improved upon a few years back, though the type of visitors is fairly narrow. The most prominent groups tend to be merchants who procure and sell their goods or important official representatives of the crown, which are required in order to maintain diplomatic relations.

It’s not entirely unusual for army detachments to be deployed from Kryta, especially when assistance is required to bolster Ebonhawke’s defenses, but very few other tasks are conducted. It’s rare for specialized missions to be given, mostly because the military’s high command in the western nation see very little use in obtaining any particular resources from Ascalon. Too much meddling might stir the charr and that’s an act they sincerely wish to avoid.  
But today is different.

It’s not a huge group, but a contingent of Seraph soldiers does march through the paved streets, drawing a lot of attention from the citizens, who immediately begin to speculate about the underlying purpose. The troops do not respond to any inquiries, but instead proceed to their destination in a brisk pace - the Ebon Vanguard’s command center.

Curiously, even the local soldiers seem somewhat bewildered. Outside of the military building, the squad encounters a slightly confused officer, a man who was has become at least moderately famous for his involvement in the deliberations with the charr months ago.  
“Uh, hello. I’m Captain Careth, of the Vanguard. We…weren’t expecting another Seraph unit so soon, definitely not of this small size. Can I help you with anything?”

The woman at the front, the perceived leader of the force, dips her head in recognition.  
“In fact, I believe you can. We’re looking for a certain noblewoman by the name of Lady Sovica.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know her and she’s around here somewhere. Uh, is she in trouble?”

The lips of the woman begin to curl and extend into a small smirk.  
“That depends on how you define ‘trouble’, Captain.”  
  


* * *

  
At approximately the same time, Sov herself is sitting, like most days, in the company of her beloved girlfriend Daeynwe. Due to the delightfully sunny weather they have on this fine spring morning, they have opted to spend it outside, basking in the light of the rising sun.  
However, there is not much leg movement involved in their current activities. Both are seated on chairs outside the cozy little inn they’ve been staying at, with a small table in front of them. On top lies an ornate wooden board, with patterns and designs trying to depict a very specific purpose, which intertwines with the miniature pieces they utilize for their entertainment.

During the past few weeks, while Sov has done her utmost to expand upon her knowledge by studying historical documents and scrolls, Dae preferred to indulge her creativity by being tutored in the rules of a local board game, in between her physical exercises. Once she believed she had mastered the essentials, she invited Sov to play for a while and share in the fun. Well, at least that was the stated intent, but the duo doesn’t exactly have the same hobbies.

That the noblewoman would have a very strenuous time with this game shouldn’t have been unexpected, as she’s not the most adept with strategy, much less one that isn’t even based in reality. If she was in the company of any other person, Sov would’ve expressed her discontent, declined another attempt and abruptly left. But because this is the woman she cares for more than any other, she stays. One more match couldn’t hurt, right? It does give her the opportunity to watch the sylvari’s sweet smile, a treasured sight in her heart.

Sadly, an outside element decides to disrupt their mutual enjoyment instead, as a peculiar noise grows ever nearer – it is the unmistakable clamor of heavy boots stomping towards their location. Not just a few either, but a whole array. Is the Vanguard preparing for a mission of some kind or does this commotion affect them more directly?  
A couple of minutes later, as their eyes veer to observe the source, they are undoubtedly surprised to spot the armor of the Seraph adorning each of the oncoming troops. The view sends ripples of concern through the human.

While the rest of the squad stop tens of meters away, one single warrior detaches themselves from the unit and continues towards the women, inciting Sov to get onto her feet and Dae to follow suit. The sylvari sticks close to her girlfriend’s side, wrapping her finger’s around the elementalist’s hand; a subtle but welcoming intimacy. It’s not as if she would be dependent on such support to remain steadfast, but it’s a nice bonus.

Sov notes the small extra wings at the collar of the armor, disclosing the truth of this individual’s officer status. Whomever it is, they have a helmet on to cover their facial appearance and does not remove it. This distorts the voice, thwarting the ability to identify them. Either way, this officer halts sharply and then seemingly surveys the poses and statures of the couple.  
“Sovica Vlasic, you have been…absent from Krytan court developments for an extended period of time. Certain members of your House are growing apprehensive of this truancy.”

Not an unforeseen angle, but still somewhat aggravating. Typical that a whole Seraph squad would be sent to collect her; excessive and overzealous. Sov can’t help the frown which crawls onto her brow.  
“Well, maybe if I wasn’t so stifled at home, I wouldn’t have had to depart so abruptly. And if my House has any complaints, they can issue those to me with their own mouths. They don’t have to utilize such domineering intermediaries.”

The officer watches her silently at first, before tilting their head sideways.  
“Sounds to me like the churlish opinion of another noble brat.”

Sov looks shocked with such an attitude at display and despite her attempts at reducing the haughty demeanor of many nobles, she can’t help but grow moderately indignant.  
“…excuse me?! How dare you speak to me like that?!”

The soldier folds their arms in an almost challenging fashion. Who does this person believe they are?  
“What, going to slap me with those dainty hands? You know you can’t take me, little sparrow.”

While a raging tempest was on its way to emerge from the depths of Sov’s wrath, this last single word is enough to stem the tide and it’s fairly laughable how swiftly she shifts into emotions of surprise and familiarity.  
“Eh, did you just-…but that’s-…Lishan?”

Following the question, the officer chuckles, places her hands at the bottom of her helmet and lifts it off in one smooth yank. Beneath it, the grinning face of a young woman is revealed. She has dark brown skin, only a marginal shade darker than Sov, gentle light brown eyes and long black braids tied into a bun.  
“Be honest. You were gonna sock me there for a second, weren’t you?”

It’s fascinating to observe how Sov’s anger has completely evaporated and she leaves Dae’s side, so that she can hurry and embrace the armored woman.  
“You are such a menace!”

Lishan’s smugness grows in potency.  
“I know, it’s a gift.”

The offered hug is quickly reciprocated, in a soft but thoroughly amiable manner. Afterwards, Sov tenderly rests her forehead against the officer’s, eyes shut.  
“Lishan, I…I’m sorry. I should’ve told you something about this sooner.”

With Sov’s arms still resting around her shoulders, Lishan leaves her own at the elementalist’s waist.  
“Bah, it’s fine. I get why you did it. I’d have done the same, were I in your seat. Well, maybe with less finesse.”

In gratitude, Sov kisses the other woman’s cheek.  
“So you saw it?”

“The note you left? Yeah, we all did. I mean, that was enough for me, but not mom. Did practically nothing to hamper her distress and anger.”

The elementalist’s shoulders slump marginally and she breathes out from her nose.  
“I know, I know, but I had to do _something_. Didn’t want her to assume abduction was involved. She would’ve torn Kryta apart to find me.”

“Heh, yeah, would’ve created a political incident, no doubt. Well, it kinda already has, but not at the same level.”

“Mm, I remember what Baron Lartus told me.”

Before they can broaden the speculations and gossip, another woman raises her voice, having surmised who this new arrival might be.  
“Hmm…Lishan”, Dae mumbles. “I recognize that name.”

The eyes of the humans drift towards her and Lishan briefly inspects the sylvari’s appearance.  
“Let me guess – Daeynwe, right?”

The rogue appears both bemused and excited at the fast and successful conclusion.  
“Whoa, how’d you know?”

“The word of your lil’ guild has spread rapidly, even to the lands of Kryta.”  
The somewhat younger woman displays a smile and extends a crisp salute.  
“Second Lieutenant Lishan of the Seraph, member of House Vlasic, daughter to Baroness Zodwa of Broadhollow and Sovica’s ever-pestering little sister.”

The older sister mirrors the lip movement, but only while rolling her eyes and leaning into Lishan. The Lieutenant is both taller and seemingly physically larger than Sov, not to mention stronger.  
“She isn’t kidding. Hassling me is practically a hobby for her.”

“Nah, more like a sport. I try to overcome my score just a lil’ every time.”

Sov shakes her head, not sure if she should laugh or sigh.  
“You’re impossible.”

Despite saying this, both of them lock their arms around each other once more, showing their sisterly affection.  
Lishan’s eyes soon veer up, joined by her hand which drifts through the curly locks.  
“Your old hairstyle, huh? I like it. You look better this way.”

“Tsk, does that mean I have to change it to annoy you?”

“Pff, you wouldn’t do that. You don’t wanna see me pout.”

Dae soon clears her throat and approaches.  
“Well, guess I should introduce myself too, though I don’t have any fancy titles. I’m the sister to Magister Veilidh of the Durmand Priory, sylvari of Noon and uh…vanquisher of a Branded devourer queen?”

“Co-vanquisher”, Sov adds.

“Whatever.”  
Dae straightens her back, hoping to decrease her anxiety, but that is more difficult to attain than with a simple twist.  
“And uh, of course, you’re holding your arm around my precious girlfriend.”

While she has seemed exceedingly smug so far, this is the first revelation which truly astounds the Lieutenant.  
“Wait, what did you say? Your-“ She glances at her sister. “Is she serious?”

Sov corrects her own hair and fidgets with her clothes, having a hard time to lock with Lishan’s gaze.  
“She, erm…yes. We’ve been together for months.”

Luckily, the reaction was not built on a foundation of distaste, but joy. Lishan swiftly swaps to a mirthful exterior and laughs. She proceeds to seize Dae’s hand, shaking it fervently.  
“Oh, this is amazing! You don’t know how much fun this’ll be when we get back home.”

Evidently, Sov does not share these feelings, due to her eyes shutting and her fingers pinching the tip of her nose.  
“Lishan, please…don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”

“Why not? Mom is gonna be beside herself!”

Dae hesitates, not knowing the nature of this claim.  
“Eh, are you mocking us?”

“What? No, quite the opposite! In fact, I’m excited, for both of you. Sovica hasn’t had a lot of partners in her life so far and most of them have been very fleeting. You know, and human. I think this’ll be…an experience, but not one I’m against.”

It’s not uncommon for Dae to get serious, but this is one of those occasions where she unveils a more ardently genuine expression than most other days.  
“I get that, and I wouldn’t have expected any other outcome, but I don’t intend to let that stop us. I love Sovi too much to surrender now. If they wanna fight me, they can bring it.”

Lishan grins and squeezes Dae’s shoulder.  
“Good. Hold onto that feeling, show ‘em that you deserve her.”  
She then turns to her sister.  
“Oh yeah, if it wasn’t obvious, mom sent us. She wants you to come home. If you’re ready, that is.”

Sov crosses her arms and arches her brow. This is an unusual situation.  
“Really? She’s asking, is she?”

“Yup. Didn’t give me specifics, but if I were to guess, it’s probably to alleviate any defiance. I mean, if she made a demand, she knows you’d turn her down flat.”

“…smart.”  
She takes a deep breath and continues.  
“Alright, I accept on behalf of me and Dae, but I don’t think we should leave just yet. Blood Bond, our guild, is also in town and it might be wise to gather them, let them all know what’s going on. Some or all of them may wish to join us.”

“Ooh, good idea! I’d love to meet your new friends. Heard they’re some very cool people.  
That said, before we go, I’d like to hear more about you and Daeynwe here. There’s so much I wanna know.”

Dae smiles shyly and scratches her cheek, which is now glowing.  
“Heh, don’t get too ecstatic. It’s not that interesting.”

“Oh, yes, it is! Please, every detail is important.”

Before Dae can divulge any of them, Sov swiftly intervenes and gets between them, prior to grabbing their wrists.  
“So you can plan your next pranks? Not a chance. Let’s deal with the guild first, you rascal.”


	4. Times of regularity

“Sovica’s little sister? Honestly?”

The voice of the red-haired norn discloses her emotions, being both thrilled and endlessly curious. This is an opportunity that none of them believed they’d get, at least not so soon.  
Rea sits in a more relaxed attire than the stuff she wears out in the field, with more exposed skin, which leaves a sizable section of cleavage and her mildly toned arms on display. Not everyone gets to witness them, but it appears she has more tattoos than the ones over her face, on other regions of her body.

Lishan remains in her armor for now, though she realizes that they won’t leave any time soon. Should probably find a change of clothes before she has to hit the sack.  
“Yup, in the flesh!”, she exclaims, hands at her hips. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

The ranger giggles.  
“Hadn’t expected to meet you already, or that you’d be so much fun. I like it. Sovi rarely talks about her family in detail.”

Around the table in this private room of the inn, they’re not alone, of course, as everyone has taken a seat. Sovi is sitting opposite the shorter norn and folds her arms.  
“Maybe not with you.”

Rea ignores the implications and decides to survey the other human, shortly before smiling with playful interest.  
“Hmm. You’re cute.”

A most bold assessment, one that makes Lishan grin, though it’s unclear whether it’s because of Rea’s opinion or due to the tremendously suspicious glare the norn receives from the older sister.  
“Hey, watch yourself, Svalen.”

Rea merely laughs such vaguely threatening motions off. When she’s done, her eyes dart between the two humans and Katla.  
“You know, this is kinda unfair.” She lifts a hand above her head and measures the height compared to Katla. “How come you’re taller than Sovi and I barely reach Katla’s shoulders?” She attempts to tickle the guardian. “You’re too much of a giant.”

This endeavor is, obviously, for naught, as the tallest member of the guild could never be described as ticklish. For once, she’s not excessively dressed, sitting exclusively in a short-sleeved dark blue shirt and black pants, though this does bare her thick muscular arms. In response to the gesture, Katla merely stares at her little sister from beneath her long bangs, not even remotely entertained.  
“You know why? Because you don’t eat your vegetables”, she replies in an flat tone.

The ranger chuckles incredulously.  
“Excuse me? I eat more than enough, you big oaf! More than you!”

“Then why are you so short?”

Rea nudges her shoulder into Katla’s.  
“I’m not! I’m average! You’re a blasted mountain! Even jotun have to look up.”

“Not true.”

From a seat next to the large norn, they hear how someone clears his throat. It just so happens to be the shortest member of their group; so short, in fact, that he might be smaller than Katla’s arm.  
“Not to interrupt your adolescent bickering, but your evaluation is highly…inaccurate, Katla”, says Ovillus. Compared to previous travels, his sharp red hair has grown, with some strands hanging next to his big ears. For the time being, he has it held up in a bun with a violet clasp.  
“Diet can rarely divert growth rate of progenies to such an extent among most Tyrian species, whether asura or not. I read an excellent dissertation on development stages just last year, dictated by-“

Katla isn’t interested in scientific evidence, nor being overshadowed in intellect.  
“How would you know? You’re the shortest. Like a hare’s leveret.”

Ovillus whirls towards her and gasps indignantly.  
“Excuse me?! How crude and inappropriate!”

The rest of the team does start to laugh at the suggestion, however, creating ambiguously smug notions on Katla’s face.  
“So, can I assume you’re Professor Ovillus?”, Lishan asks the asura. “I read the report before I got here. Talked about your magical and technological capabilities.”

Ovillus abandons the quarrel with Katla, knowing he probably can’t win, and instead becomes captivated by the offered description from the Lieutenant, an aspect that is perceivable through his perking ears.  
“Oh, my scholarly proficiencies are finally gaining their deserved recog-“  
He stops to blink bemusedly.  
“…wait, did you say ‘Professor’? The undue rumors have arrived in Kryta too? Oh dear, this is not good. The College will _not_ be exultant if they hear this. I hope they won’t send an inspector…” He sighs briefly. “I have repeatedly clarified this to my adventuring associates, but I-“

He is, unfortunately, interrupted by a somewhat gruffer and louder voice, that of the group’s charr. Razok corrects the coat he’s wearing and bares his fangs in a slight grin.  
“You know, it’s nice to finally run into another Vlasic. She mentioned that your family is a sizable bunch in Kryta, which is pretty fascinating. The Vlasics are well-known in charr circles, actually.”

Lishan shrugs.  
“Doesn’t surprise me. Ol’ Miljana really made a lot of racket all over the place, right?”

“Hah! She did a lot more than that, but it’s true enough.”  
Raz rises and then walks closer to offer his paw.  
“Though we don’t hold a grudge. She’s admired in some ways, as a respected enemy. Few humans have achieved what she and her allies did.”

The gesture makes Lishan smile and she returns it in kind.  
“Don’t think I’ve ever shaken hand-…uh, paws? With a charr, I mean. Or whatever we should call it.”

He snickers and seizes her hand in a firm, but cordial grasp.  
“You have now.”  
It may not be spoken, but Sov looks very pleased to watch her friend and sister in this fashion.

Eventually, they are brought back onto the right path by Katla.  
“So, what exactly is your visit about? Does this mean your mother has finally decided to call on Sovica?”

Those who are on their feet soon return to the chairs and the Lieutenant faces the inquirer.  
“Pretty much. She wants to speak with her.”

“Actually, it’s a great deal more complex”, Sov inserts. “This is ostensibly a mother’s request for her daughter to come home, but it isn’t her only reason. There’s an important regional event coming up soon, with a lot of…political connotations.”

“Oh?”, Rea asks. “Is there an uh…election? That's what they're called, right?"

“Heh, no, nothing that dire and it wouldn’t have affected us to any severe degree anyhow.” She entwines her fingers and places them on the table.  
“Do any of you know anything about my home?”

It isn’t particularly astonishing when virtually no guild member, except Ovillus, can offer any insight.  
“Ah, it is not within my area of expertise”, the asura explains, “but I am moderately versed in House Vlasic records, though regrettably not in abundance regarding modern eras. Or geographical specifications.”

“Then I think it’s time for a little history lesson, so you know what we’re dealing with.  
As you know, Lishan and I are from the Broadhollow barony, which can be defined as the last great ‘bastion’ of the southern sections in the Krytan nation. This gives it a fairly crucial status.”

“It’s located in a region known as the ‘Gendarran Fields’, north of Lion’s Arch”, Lishan interjects.

“Oh, I’ve been there!”, Daeynwe admits, currently sitting next to her girlfriend. “A couple of times, actually. Huh, it’s weird that I never thought to visit your house.”

Sov smiles and caresses her girlfriend’s cheek.  
“I don’t think it’s that odd. You were likely more engrossed with major or perilous settlements. Ours is fairly calm and trivial, at least in comparison.  
At any rate, Kryta used to be much larger and grander in the past, but the Fields are now only half-Krytan, while the other pieces are mixed with an array of races and origins. ‘Broadhollow’ is the name of the area, barony _and_ town that exists close to the Vlasic estate. It is integrally interwoven with our House and identity, especially for being the most immediate place that our mother governs.”

Lishan elbows her sister’s side playfully.  
“And the town you’ll rule one day too.”

“Uh, yeah, basically.  
In the Krytan Ministry, every landowner can get a seat, depending on one’s political clout, abilities, resources and environs. Not everything is as clear-cut as the term ‘election’ might suggest.  
Due to Broadhollow being the most influential and stable southern barony, we essentially have a permanent seat in the Ministry. For this reason, members of our branch in House Vlasic are always involved in some capacity. It is expected of every Broadhollow Vlasic and their heir to fervently study leadership, stewardship, politics, formalities and protocol.”

Once more, the little sister has another brisk addition.  
“You know, the most tedious topics you can possibly imagine.”

Sov slowly turns to stare skeptically at Lishan.  
“I beg your pardon? You weren’t the one who had to endure hours upon hours of this stuff.”

The Lieutenant repeats her previously smug expression as she kisses Sov’s cheek.  
“See? That’s why you’re the best.”

The heiress sighs in a faintly exhausted fashion.  
“We’re digressing.  
For the most part, the Ministry’s sessions are conducted inside the most populated locations, such as Divinity’s Reach, often due to being the most accessible. But sometimes, this changes.  
Thanks to Broadhollow’s critical importance, the Ministry has a special conference that occurs on an irregular basis. Every three or four years, all of them travel to the south, in and around the Vlasic manor; not just to speak with our family, but to negotiate with other parties. It lasts for about a week.”

Lishan temporarily takes charge of the description.  
“This doesn’t just mean debates between the many political seats and landowners across Kryta, but Lion’s Arch, the multi-racial proprietors, dignitaries from other nations and recently, the Vigil. It’s a melting pot of different interests.  
Might be weird to ya, but at one point in the past, I heard we even held meetings with the centaurs. That never ended very well, so…yeah, invitations ceased.”

“This year”, Sov continues, “in no more than a few weeks, yet another such conference will happen, and my mother wants me to be present. I have attended a few before, but this is the first time that I would be considered an actual adult. I’ll be expected to issue proper declarations and statements.”

Rea tilts her head somewhat confusedly.  
“Really? But you’re not a minister and you don’t have a title.”

“Well, while I’m not yet the Baroness, the significance of the heir is exceedingly vital. Not only is it the first stage of governmental participation, but many other Barons and Counts bring their own children as well. Our mother’s offspring, or at least I, are expected to support and reinforce her.”

Raz scratches under his jaw with a couple of claws.  
“Huh. Sounds unnecessarily laborious and complicated, but I guess that’s humans for ya. Everything’s a lot quicker in the High Legions.  
What about your sister, though?”

Lishan clears her throat.  
“Well, uh…technically, I’m mostly backup. I’m second in line, which means I’m not that crucial. I serve another purpose at the conference, by being a Seraph. I’ll deal with security.”

Sov shakes her head.  
“Traditionally, _all_ children should perform the appropriate rituals and etiquette, but my sister is lazy and easily bored.”

“Not true! I just trust you wholeheartedly, sparrow.”

“Uh-huh”, Sov replies in doubt.

Now that they seem to have reached the end, the guild can contribute with their own reflections. Rea manages to express what’s on the mind of the majority.  
“This event does sound kinda interesting and it was a lovely story, but to be honest, that’s not what I care about. The important question that we should all be asking is – do you _want_ to go, Sovi?”

“Eloquently articulated”, says Ovillus.

“Yeah, good point”, Raz agrees.

Katla shrugs.  
“It’s your family, Sovica. Your home.”

This angle can do nothing but make Sovi smile yet again, honored to hear them say it.  
“I am…grateful that you would care. It means a lot.”

“Of course we care!”, Rea responds keenly. “We’re a team. We’re _friends_.”

Dae snakes her arms around Sov’s waist and puts a few quick kisses on her girlfriend’s cheek.  
“Damn right. And friends support each other, through trunk and bark.”

Sov arches her brow confusedly.  
“…through thick and thin, you mean?”

“Yeah, that.”

Trying to seek increased comfort, Sov lays her head on her girlfriend’s chest, contemplating this scenario a bit further. So much churns her mind in every direction.  
“To be perfectly honest, I do have certain reservations regarding the details and how they’ll be presented, but I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to the journey. It’s not only high time to make an appearance at home, but I wish for my mother to witness what sort of person I’ve become. And to meet Daeynwe, obviously.”

Katla folds her arms.  
“You think she’ll be angry?”

“At this very moment, I don’t know. If the rumors have gone south…well, there are all sorts of reactions which might crop up. But, frankly, it doesn’t matter. Dae has given me the necessary courage to face any repercussion. We’ll do it together.”  
She catches herself in the act and straightens her position.  
“Eh, though all of you don’t have to come with me, naturally. This is voluntary.”

Rea is the first to inject her opinion.  
“Bah, don’t be a grumbling snow leopard. Of course we’re coming! We haven’t fought and struggled together for almost a year just to give up on you now, Sovi.”

Raz nods ardently.  
“Damn right. This is our warband, and nothing but death can break our bond.”

“I concur”, Ovillus infers. “Not to mention the academic and cultural pursuits I can uncover. I was never invited into any of your family’s holdings during my research period, so this is a most fortuitous occasion.”

“Yeah, what they said”, Katla states tersely.

The joyful prospects in Sov expands, getting moderately overwhelmed, but simultaneously being immensely grateful.  
“I couldn’t have asked for a better guild.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm not sure whether I've said this before, but yeah, I know there isn't really a mansion or anything at Broadhollow. That's part of my added lore, I guess_


	5. Step into reach

Using an asura gate is something that Sovica would definitely describe as one of the most otherworldly experiences she has ever had. Others have come close, such as moments of bliss or profound faith, but passing through that strange pink and purple energy field is beyond those occurrences. They are portals, magical gateways to other sections of the world, but walking through one is not like traversing a simple corridor. To Sov, it’s akin to pressing one’s enter existence into a magical funnel that merges your body with arcane sources and then spits you out on the opposite side. This may only be the second time she utilizes one, but she still wonders if something of her is left behind in that churning stream.

The location that the group enters is a placed brimming with stone, humongous structures and an excess of people. They step into a district filled with buildings of a rather austere white-stone design and a focus on smaller towers.  
“This is Rurikton”, she explains to her friends. “It’s the easternmost sector of the city and the construction was based on Ascalonian architecture.”

While Ovillus is mostly undeterred, due to this not being his first visit, Razok and Rea are particularly amazed. Even Katla looks mildly intrigued.  
“By the Spirits…”, Rea mumbles. “This is…your capital?”

Their reactions make her smile.  
“Divinity’s Reach, yes. It’s the largest city in Kryta as well.”

Raz snorts, half out of amusement, half out of surprise.  
“Burn me. I think these buildings dwarf even the Black Citadel.” He glances at Sov. “And yet you’re all so small.”

There’s a gentle laughter from the human as she pats his arm.  
“Possibly, but the size of this city was necessary. Humans from all nations fled here long ago, during a time of great turmoil around the various continents. Hence the choice to build our capital with such a diverse layout. Cantha, Ascalon, Kryta, Elona – they’re all represented here.”

Rea lets her eyes sweep across the sights before her. She’s used to buildings being tall, but this is almost ridiculous.  
“Doesn’t it get confusing, though? There’s just…so much here.”

“Heh, at first, maybe, but you get used to it. And hey, if you’re impressed with this place, you should see Kaineng. It’s the capital city in the land of Cantha. I’ve never been there, but the stories that our ancestors wrote mentioned it was several times larger than what Divinity’s Reach became.”

Rea turns to her in astonishment, her mouth almost being left agape.  
“You’re kidding.”

“Nope! If it still stands, it’s the oldest city in human history.”

“Hah!”, Raz exclaims. “Humans always preferred to build big, I guess. The walls of Ebonhawke is proof of that.”

During this conversation, Katla busies herself with observing their immediate surroundings and the people that wander in their vicinity. Sadly, most of them react rather adversely, either scattering, staring or subtly trying to slip away. One little boy even starts to cry as his mother carries him off and Katla frowns and folds her arms.  
“Figured I wouldn’t get a very nice welcoming. Wonder if it’s the height or the scar.”

Soon after, she receives a pat on her back from the charr.  
“Ah, not to worry, Kat. The fear and anger aren’t aimed at you. It’s me”, he says, without even properly looking at any of the other humans.

Ovillus strokes his chin.  
“Hmm, now that you mention it, that is not particularly bewildering. It is a fact that you are one of the few charr visitors that this city has ever accommodated.”

“Yeah, pretty much”, Raz agrees.

Sov furrows her brow, looking annoyed and a little disappointed. This wasn’t one of the first aspects that she wanted her friends to experience.  
“Ignore it. They will get over this too, eventually. We should get going. We weren’t meant to stay in the Reach for long anyway.”  
She looks around, but while most of her Seraph are there, some individuals are missing.  
“Wait, where’s Dae and Lishan?”

“Oh uh, I saw them both wander off earlier”, Rea reveals. “Guessing they wanted to have a private tour. Maybe Dae is curious about your sister. I know I would be.”

Sov sighs and covers her eyes with a hand.  
“Dammit. I hope Lishan doesn’t do anything foolish…or embarrassing. Anyway, we should move to the southern gate and wait for them there. She’ll know the way. Seraph, follow me.”

The soldiers form up on the group and act as escorts, splitting themselves between the front and the back. Katla and Rea find that rather unnecessary, but since this is Sov’s home, they let her make the decisions.  
To reach the southern gate, they move through the central road that circles around the huge middle section of the city, which she calls the District Promenade. Many more people can be encountered here, as vendors, stalls and stores of all varieties are located nearby. It garners attention from every sector. For this reason, many stares and glares are fixated on Raz. Even Grawdr, Rea’s pet polar bear, gets somewhat uncomfortable, emitting the occasional grunt as evidence.

During the journey, the noblewoman shakes her head.  
“I’m used to getting attention because of my family’s rank, but this is ridiculous.”

“Hey, you said we should ignore it, right?”, says Raz. “C’mon, put it out of your head. We’ll be fine. Hadn’t really expected much else myself.”

She veers towards him, both uncertainty and a smidgen of sorrowing entering her eyes.  
“But it’s not fair. I was treated decently in Deathblade’s Watch. This isn’t how we should repay you.”

“Yeah, not disputing that, but the Watch was also a smaller town that’s located much closer to Ebonhawke _and_ the troops over there had heard the rumors about your actions. The Black Citadel would’ve probably offered more animosity.”

Sov doesn’t respond, moderately annoyed that she knows he’s got a point. Peace might come, but friendship will take time.  
None of the citizens actually attempt to get in their way, though, of course. They may groan and grumble, but stepping into a fight of this caliber is an aspect they all acknowledge as being most unwise. Sov is grateful for that much, at least.  
Once they’re almost at the end of the promenade and make their way towards the final pathway, this changes. Luckily, it’s not quite the way they expected.  
  
Suddenly, a small girl with light brown skin and long black hair, dressed in a red flowery dress – potentially of Krytan descent – comes very close. To the despair of several other humans, she strolls right up to Raz’s location and halts in front of him, forcing the charr to stop. The rest of his companions do the same. Raz has to bend his neck slightly, as she is so much smaller than him, practically the size of his paws.

While the group observes what happens, the girl views him with big inquisitive eyes. He tries to offer her a smile, but it’s unclear if that helps.  
“Are you a charr?”, she asks with her tiny and soft voice.

“That’s right.”

“You look like a very big cat.”

He chuckles, a faintly rumbling noise.  
“Yeah, humans seem to think so.”

“I like cats.”

“Heh, well, we’re not like one of your domesticated species, but I’m as friendly as any of ‘em. Promise.”

She tilts her head slightly.  
“I’m Anabel. What’s your name?”

“Razok Cogfang.”

The girl looks a little confused.  
“Cog…fang? Do you have cogs for fangs?”

That makes him laugh once more.  
“Not really. It’s just a name.”

“Okay. Razok, can I shake your paw?”

“You sure can.”

He offers his much larger appendage to her, but in a careful manner, so she basically shakes a section of it. She offers a pleased expression for him.  
“You’re very nice. It was fun to meet you.”

“You too, cub. Stay outta trouble, alright?”

Soon enough, her father comes to pick her up and while he looks somewhat nervous, he doesn’t seem hostile. After nodding at Raz, he bows his head towards Sov.  
“I apologize for the inconvenience, my lady.”

Sov merely smiles.  
“Not at all. This was a most pleasant distraction. Take care of Anabel.”  
After they continue their stride, she caresses her friend’s arm.  
“That was very sweet. At least you’re decent with children.”

The engineer laughs shortly.  
“Which is pretty bizarre. Cubs back home usually think I’m lame.”

From the other side, Rea smirks and nudges her shoulder into him.  
“Might be because you’re very cute.”

“Pff, I’m not!”  
  


* * *

  
Elsewhere in the city, within the Salma District – obviously the wrong end of the Reach – Daeynwe wanders around accompanied by her girlfriend’s sister. The sylvari finds herself very intrigued by certain aspects of their stroll, but this is not aimed at the city itself. She has been here before, so the capital has very little of new information to offer her. No, her interest is fully focused on her company and what Lishan has to say.

Lishan purchases two fruity snacks from a vendor, one for each of them and when she comes back, she teases Dae by playfully bumping it into her face. She grins, while the sylvari giggles and takes it.  
“Hey, not very nice!”

The Lieutenant smirks and shrugs.  
“Gotta be faster”, she says and then has a bite of her own.

“Tsk. You know, Sovi compared the two of us at one point. Think I see what she means now.”

“Oh? What’d she say?”

“Mentioned we share similar styles of humor and some interests.”

Lishan chews on a grape as she ponders this possibility. She hasn’t really spent enough time with this rogue to fully ascertain the veracity of the claim.  
“Anything’s possible, I suppose. Do you like to mess around with her too?”

“Yeah, occasionally. I’m especially into teasing and playing with her, though not directly hurting her. She’s cute when surprised.”

“Heh. Alright, guess I can see the resemblance.”

Dae surveys Lishan’s stance once more. They’re virtually the same height, though Lishan outmatches her in size. She’s a well-trained warrior type, not the duelist merged with stealthy thief that Dae tends to be.  
“Rea wasn’t wrong, by the way – you’re very cute. Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend too?”

The Lieutenant flashes a pleasant smile and corrects her armor.  
“Not at this time, no. To be honest, I’m not really into that stuff.”

“Ah, I see. Too much hassle, perhaps?”

“Mm, something like that. I mean, I agree, but not for the reason that a lot of other people use. I believe relationships can be cumbersome because they usually have to involve a lot of…physicality.”

Dae blinks bemusedly.  
“Physicality? You mean sex?”

Yeah. I lack the interest for it.”

“Oh. Completely?”

Lishan shrugs.  
“Well, I’m not against the idea if I find someone I can truly connect with on an emotional level, but it’d be for them, not for me.”

Dae inclines her head slowly, trying to convert the meaning of it into a perspective she can better comprehend.  
“I believe I understand what you’re talking about. My people certainly engage in similar activities, as do I, but we don’t put as much emphasis on it. Not like humans.”

“Sounds nice, though I’m unsure if it’s the same. Don’t know enough about sylvari to tell.”

“Well, does this mean I won’t get any hugs from my girlfriend’s sister?”

Lishan arches her brow skeptically, before offering a smile.  
“Tsk, that’s not what I meant, stupid. ‘course I’ll hug my friends and loved ones.”

“Prove it.”

The soldier laughs and embraces her gently, which makes Dae mirror her previous expression, very happy that she gets to be around one of her beloved’s family members and actually be friendly with her. It’s going better than Dae had initially anticipated.  
“At least I can see what Sovica fell for. My sister has, despite constantly denying it, always had a thing for troublemakers. Not criminals, necessarily, but ones that like to have fun.”

Yes, finally! Dae had hoped they’d approach this topic, or something that skirts around it, as she wants to learn more about Sov. She could’ve dived into it with blunt questions, but she has spent enough time near humans now to understand they don’t always appreciate such frankness.  
“Really? I’ve been curious, because she rarely talks about it herself. Has she gotten into any trouble before?”

“Oh, sure, from time to time.  
I remember this young bard that she was together with a few years ago. He used to sing some songs that made fun of the Ministry. Not slander, just a bit of poking, but that didn’t sit well with the Ministry Guard. Apparently, Sovica was kinda amused by his behavior and she hung out with him for a while, until they eventually fell in love. Didn’t last for very long, but they had fun, I think.”

Dae chuckles.  
“Didn’t know she liked musicians.”

Lishan smirks in return and eats some more of her snacks.  
“I don’t think she really does, but this guy’s conduct was very tempting for her. Never understood it myself.  
Another much more obvious and passionate fling was with this mercenary captain that was stationed in Gendarran a couple of years later. She was hired by one of the non-Krytan landowners to deal with pirates. A pretty rough type that didn’t take any shit from nobles. Once they met, it didn’t take long for the merc to charm her.”

“Ooh, she seduced Sovi, did she? Any nefarious purposes involved?”, Dae asks excitedly.

It makes Lishan snicker.  
“Not like that, no. She was just attracted to my sister and took her into bed. Our mother definitely didn’t approve, as you might imagine. It’s kinda funny – even to this day, I’m still unclear on whether she did it to agitate mom or because she felt the merc was irresistible. A bit of both, I guess.”

A caustic singer and an alluring merc. Dae feels kinda boring in comparison.  
“Well, I admit that I can be a nuisance, but I don’t know if anyone can liken me to such endeavors. I’m just a fighter who likes adventure.”

Lishan smiles at her with a hint of approval.  
“Yeah, and maybe that’s why you click. Because you give her excitement, but not a worrisome future, she probably fell right into your lap. Might be marriage material, even.”

“I certainly hope so! Sovica is…amazing in every way.”

“I agree and I hope you manage to stick together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I know Anet removed the Canthan district for various reasons, but in my version of DR, it's still there._


	6. Gaze into legend

Despite its distance on a map, Gendarran is not a very long journey away from Divinity’s Reach. In the less conscious and magically advanced past, the trek would normally take at least a week, depending on one’s travelling accommodations, but such concepts have long been eschewed due to the introduction of asura gates. Now, getting to the farmlands of southern Kryta can occur in no more than the blink of an eye, should one make the necessary preparations.

This route was undoubtedly one that the guild had discussed and initially, it was the favorable option. Not that any of its members are particularly opposed to long-distance walks, barring Ovillus perhaps, but it was ostensibly wiser to shorten the trip and not waste time. However, after some brilliant persuasive maneuvering from Sovica, they came to another solution and instead decided that traversing the road on foot was more worthwhile.

This outcome will result in losing some visitor’s time and minimize their stay in the manor until the big Ministry conference, but this appears to have been part of Sov’s plan all along. The last thing she wants to do is dawdle while her mother complains about Daeynwe.  
She knows precisely how busy the good Minister will be with preparations to receive a ton of guests. If Zodwa has to parse Dae’s identity simultaneously as her mind permeates with thoughts of speeches, political debates and power plays, Sov is confident that it will reduce any negative impacts. Well, hopefully. Her mother is impeccably versatile, though.

The excursion through the region known as Queensdale, south of the Reach, and into the conflicting fields of Gendarran, took slightly more than a week. Luckily, they are now no more than a jaunt away from the safety of Broadhollow’s walls. In fact, they can already see the structures in the distance, without even needing to squint. It’s evening and they know there are only hours left before they set foot on the pavement of the internal roads, a day at most. Making this last push would have been feasible, but redundant. They have more than enough time to spare for a rest.

During the hike, they’ve discussed a variety of delectable topics – general Krytan knowledge, Krytan history, fairytales and myths, the flora and fauna, various customs and more. What they haven’t dipped into is their destination and its people.  
It’s Rea and Razok who’s preparing a meal for the guild and their Seraph escorts, but neither of them poses the question. The whole group is gathered and curiously enough, it originates from Katla, who’s casually leaning against a large rock that is placed on the grassy field they’re camped in.

“Sovi. Could you tell us more about your family?”

It’s not just the heiress, but her friends are also bemused by the inquiry. She rarely delves into these types of interests.  
“You…really wanna know?”, Sov responds.

The tallest and biggest member of the group shrugs briefly.  
“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“I guess so, but…you don’t do it very often.”

“So? I want to be prepared. Don’t wish to make stupid mistakes.”

The human reveals a small smile, not being able to fault her for such vigilance.  
“A fine reason, I’d say.”

Ovillus is currently sitting next to Sov, on the opposite end of Dae, with an unfolded book in his hand that he acquired from the capital.  
“Her request is appropriate. I won’t deny my own inquisitive disposition. I have studied several sections of your family’s many exploits, but it’s a rare privilege to procure the experiences and opinions of the heirs themselves.”

It appears the whole group is getting ready for a story, finding comfortable positions and extending their curiosity. Sov veers towards her sister.  
“Should I, or…?”

She gestures questioningly, but Lishan smiles and lifts her hands to reflect the offer.  
“Nah, this one’s all yours, sparrow.”

“Tsk. Only because you didn’t do your homework.”

“What? Lies! My studying habits got nothing to do with it. You’re just a better storyteller.”

Sov snickers and pecks her sister’s cheek, but quickly conjures her more solemn and educational demeanor.  
“Alright then, settle in, I guess. I’ve already mentioned the occasional tidbits, but I’ll try my best to give you a basic summary of our history, character and integrity.  
The Vlasics have lived and prospered in Broadhollow since the times of Miljana and Sayaki. They were not nobles-“ She impedes her own progress, when she realizes her error. Can’t provide a faulty account. “Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. Sayaki was Canthan royalty, but not Krytan nobility.”

This is a statement that astounds most of the group, except for Ovillus yet again.  
“Whoa, royalty?”, asks Rea. “I thought you said your family were nobles?”

This reaction makes Lishan laugh and she glances smugly at her sister.  
“Little sparrow kept the truth hidden, did she?”

Sov rolls her eyes.  
“Don’t give them ideas, Lishan.  
Alright, let me clarify – yes, we are nobles, not royalty. However, Sayaki was the daughter of a cousin to the Canthan Emperor Kisu, over 250 years ago. What has happened to the southern continent since then is completely unknown. In a way, we are an…estranged branch to the imperial family of that era, I suppose, but who can even tell if it’s in charge anymore? The last word we received was so long ago, before they completely sealed their borders and all communication with us. Besides, Sayaki had little interest in titles. In fact, neither had Miljana.”

“So you could still be royalty?”, asks Katla.

The heiress takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes and rubs her nose, doing her utmost to hamper the descending headache. She’s now seriously wondering why she mentioned this to begin with.  
“On an exceptionally remote scale, yes. In fact, I doubt any in Cantha would even acknowledge our claim if we dared to use it.”

Hoping to rescue her ailing girlfriend, Dae leans towards her and kisses her cheek.  
“Don’t mind them, lily. Just teasing. If your ancestors weren’t nobles before, then how did that happen?”

The presence of her beloved is very tempting, so much so that Sov ends up reclining against the sylvari, seeking comfort in those welcoming arms.  
“Well, after what the Ascendants performed to save and protect Kryta from the White Mantle and the mursaat during the civil war, they were all rewarded. Most were bestowed with gifts, praise, inscriptions in history books, permanent houses and all the honors of heroes. For leading the final defense of Lion’s Arch, however, Miljana was ennobled by Queen Salma herself and granted the barony we now know as Broadhollow.”

This revelation is enough to impress the entire guild. Raz strokes his claws thoughtfully over the fur around his jaw.  
“Huh. The Ascendants saved Lion’s Arch, did they? Gotta say, that’s quite a feat. Surprised not more folks over there talk about it.”

“It’s because they’ve got nothing to do with each other”, Lishan points out. “Sadly, while the victory against the mursaat was a day that a lot of Krytans remembered, the city was flooded later on. Kinda soured the whole effort.”

“Indeed”, Sov concurs. “That event affected Kryta unlike any previous catastrophes and shaped the very fundamental functions of our nation. It went from a very southern-centric realm to being ruled from the north and therefore much of these regions were forgotten.  
As for Broadhollow, while Ascalonians and Krytans had united to build the initial estate, by and large, the barony was fairly empty for practically one and a half century, save for a few farms. Everything changed after the inundation of the capital in 1219 AE, where many people had to flee and were displaced across the land. For a lot of them, Broadhollow became a safe haven, a reprieve in the storm of Zhaitan’s havoc.”

“So this was long after Miljana”, Rea asserts.

“Oh yes, absolutely. In fact, almost a century had passed since Miljana and Sayaki died of old age, but the Baron at the time – Auguro Vlasic – was a kind and understanding soul, who opened the gates and lands to anyone in need that had the potential of coming here.”

Dae taps a finger over her lips in thought.  
“Hmm, Auguro…you’ve cited that name before. A cat, right?”

Sov smiles and nudges her nose affectionally into the sylvari’s cheek.  
“Glad you partially listened. Yes, the cat’s namesake and this Baron was one and the same, my great great grandfather.”

They hear an amused chuckle from Lishan.  
“Hold on. You mentioned the cat before super old grandpa?”

“She wanted to know about pets. Blame her for only recalling the cat part.  
Anyhow, Auguro was fairly young during the time of the flooding, but he was a benevolent and altruistic man. He acknowledged that the safety of the people was the primary concern and more important than the state’s needs. As he was also an elementalist of some renown, he rebuffed the crown’s request for funding and instead used what power and resources he possessed to aid with construction of homes in this region. Eventually, this led to the founding of the town we call Broadhollow and the expansion of the barony’s reach.  
Not only did people come to live here in droves, in order to conduct mining in the bluffs and fishing in the nearby lakes, it also attracted farmers, merchants and craftsmen. For his compassion, decisiveness and leadership in a dire era, the citizens were swift to promote him into the Krytan Ministry, which grew in importance after the building of Divinity’s Reach. Ever since that event, we Broadhollow Vlasics have kept that seat.”

“It’s not just Broadhollow that favors us, though,” Lishan informs them. “The Ascalonian settlement here in Gendarran does too. They still call their town house the ‘Onyeka Hall’ after its first Mayor, Onyeka Vlasic, mother of Miljana.”

The conversation up until this point has been somewhat pleasant, regardless of tragic consequences. Now, however, a somber and solemn attitude replaces Sov’s previous behavior.  
“Sadly, while the people have often loved our family, especially down here, the situation is not quite as stable when matters of nobility are raised. Zodwa and our grandfather have on numerous occasions formed attempts to unite the Krytan landowners in the south for various reasons, to be a consolidated front. Regrettably, due to jealousy, suspicion or good old political scheming, they have been met with very little success. The Vlasic estate and territory are viewed as the strongest, but that is not always an advantage.”

“Why not?”, Katla inquiries. “Sounds exactly what it should be.”

“I know, but human politics are sluggish and…needlessly convoluted. Because of our undeniable level of influence, deliberations have been difficult, as most are cautious of the intent, notably regarding our mother.” She furrows her brow, gazing off into the distance. “I know she can be adamant, but the mistrust hurled at her is unfair. Many simply don’t wish to give in to a potential Vlasic annexation, whether that would be profitable or not.”

“Meh, they’ll give up eventually”, Lishan states with a casual shrug. “If anyone could become the first to obtain that seat, it’s mom.”

While she stirs the ladle through the boiling pot, Rea arches her eyebrow in a puzzled fashion.  
“Uh, what does that mean? She wants to take their baronies? I don’t really know much about human nobles.”

“Yeah, you and me both”, Raz confesses. “I mean, that’s what charr would do to seize a new rank, but…we also don’t permit individuals to own land.”

Sov shakes her head, as she realizes the enigma.  
“Ah, no. I should probably elaborate on our system of nobility.  
You see, of all the landowners in Kryta, there are a few distinct ranks and each of them control differently sized domains. Dukes and Duchesses, Counts and Countesses, Barons and Baronesses – these are the predominant ranks in Kryta. Baronies are small sections of regions, Counties are entire regions and Duchies are usually a few regions combined; although, I have to add that there hasn’t been any need for Dukes in a fairly long time, particularly after the extension of the Ministry’s power. All of them are ruled, like the rest of the nation, by the royal family. Some other minor landowners exist, but these are the titles linked to substantial sectors, those who rule, collect taxes, spend resources, fund the nation’s defenses and so on.”

“There are still several counties and a bunch of baronies, though”, adds Lishan. “Like, half of Gendarran is often viewed as a county, which is what’s left of Kryta in this zone.”

“Yeah, but no one has acted as the Count or Countess of Gendarran in quite a while. Due to the instability of Kryta’s grasp on the Fields, many nobles hoard their power jealously and would not relinquish it to anyone but the Queen. While our family hasn’t unmitigatedly stated that we wish to acquire the county, many have surmised or alleged that we do. Honestly, it has always sounded like projection to me.”

Raz views the Vlasic sisters with interest and folds his arms.  
“Alright. But let’s say your mom got the chance to scoop up the whole area into her circle of power. You think she’d decline?”

Sov and Lishan glances at one another, but while the latter shrugs, the older sister appears hesitant.  
“I…do not wish to speak for my mother in this regard”, Sov admits, “but…it’s not impossible.”

“She would”, Lishan declares with conviction. “No doubt.”

The shoulders on Sov slumps and she lowers her gaze.  
“Our mother has often been perceived as a political powerhouse. She’s resolute, assertive and ambitious, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a schemer. She simply knows how the game is performed and she will not be outplayed.  
But the truth is that she’s actually way more compassionate than many give her credit for. She is most adamant about speaking for the descendants of Elona among the Ministry, to ensure that our interests aren’t forgotten, which tends to be the case. She has even created a large number of Ministry propositions that the gateway to Elona in Ascalon should be opened, but she has found very little support. Not to mention that Ebonhawke is too leery of the idea to let Kralkatorrik’s corruption seep back in.”

“Hmm. No offense to your dear progenitor, but Ebonhawke’s angle is wise”, claims Ovillus. “The crystal dragon must be thoroughly researched before such hazards can be challenged.”

Katla corrects her seat a bit and inclines her head towards her companion.  
“Thanks for the info, Sovi. I feel better equipped now.”

The heiress smiles pensively and shrugs.  
“I’m uncertain if that will be enough preparations, but we’ll have to see tomorrow when we encounter her directly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Not sure if anyone remembers Sovica mentioning that cat back in Forged In Turmoil, but yeah, I've had this planned for a long time. Auguro is a fairly famous figure in Vlasic history, only outmatched by Miljana and Sayaki._


	7. Broadhollow

The bright and glistening sun, the jubilant song of birds and a benign spring wind heralds the guild’s arrival in Broadhollow, signifying the possibility that nature may be on their side for once. Or, as Sovica would put it, their day has been blessed by Melandru.

Broadhollow can, without a doubt, be described as a neat and cozy town along the road towards Lion’s Arch. Not too big and bustling, but certainly not small enough to be brushed off as a sleepy village.  
It is erected next to a series of bluffs and upon various hills, a landscape that this area is commonly known for, though the name itself was apparently devised at a later stage, sometime following the manor’s construction.

A sparse number of trees and an array of farms encircle the region, the grass growing all around is vigorous and a healthy green, while a short mountain chain looms in the background to the south, that continues towards the east, past Lion’s Arch.  
The exterior view of Broadhollow is somewhat hampered by the existence of a grey stone wall that has been built to envelop the entirety of the town. It’s far from as ostentatious as Ebonhawke, being nothing more than a few meters tall.

“Good craftsmanship”, Razok comments upon slightly closer inspection. “Doubt this stuff beats what you’ve got in Ascalon, though.”

Sovica folds her arms and smiles mirthfully at her friend.  
“Criticizing our techniques, are you?”

The charr shrugs.  
“Hey, I just call it like I see it.”

Thankfully, the young noblewoman laughs it off.  
“Well, you’re not incorrect, but we have little use for such exorbitant constructions. This wall is meant to ward off against ettins that roam the land nearby, as well as potential centaur attacks from the north.”

“The latter is pretty rare, though”, adds Lishan. “I mean, centaurs don’t usually come this far south anymore. Too many other juicy towns and Seraph outposts in the way.”

“That said, mother has considered placing funds on extending the wall’s reach, in order to warrant the expansion of houses inside its perimeter. We’ve had an influx of newcomers as of late – or at least when I was last at home. This would, naturally, be a fairly hefty and ambitious project.”

As they pass through the gates, there are numerous citizens already out on the streets, heading off to their jobs, visiting one of the stores, interacting with one another or racing home. There is a marketplace in Broadhollow and unsurprisingly, it is by far the most packed district, especially coupled with the many merchants that come and go from out of town. It would seem they have quite a few visitors on a regular basis.

The design employed here is reminiscent of some elements that the group spotted back in Divinity’s Reach, with the dominant inspiration being Ascalonian and Elonian. For those with cultural and architectural grasp, it’s fairly interesting to view the attached white spires intermingled with the more rounded shapes traditionally found in places like countryside Istan and sections of Kourna, though they have taken a moderately unique spin.

The roads are almost fully paved, the buildings are in decent condition and with the traders having a wide variety of goods available, it does appear as if Broadhollow beams with prosperity.  
The town isn’t fully even in terms of altitude, however, due to the bluffs and the hills that it has been assembled on top of, which means there are roads to ascend and certain houses are forced to linger above others.  
The most conspicuous element is probably the Seraph office that is situated in the outskirts, which is made from an overt Krytan style and has potentially been added at a later stage.

Once inside, a lot of people greet the group, particularly the Vlasic sisters. It appears they’re not just well-known, but also well-liked. A lot of the excitement is aimed at the older of the duo. Some vendors and store owners suggest that Sov come and take a look at their wares, as they’ve received a lot of new items since she was last here. A few of the fishers and miners are both glad and relieved to see that she’s back, having picked up rumors that she disappeared - possibly been abducted! – mysteriously, and some kids that rush past ask her to come play with them. A shoemaker mentions that she has the pair of boots that Sov ordered many moons ago, an element that brings some guilt and remorse to the noblewoman for letting it slip her mind. And lastly, the local librarian extends an invitation for her to come read the latest supply of books, scrolls, tomes and documents they’ve managed to procure, wanting to compare notes in order for Sov to offer her own recommendations.

In a small intermission, Rea smirks and wanders over to playfully nudge Sov’s shoulder.  
“Well, well, look who’s lady popular here. Seems like Dae isn’t the only one who wants a piece of you.”

The sylvari reacts to this remark by blinking confusedly.  
“What?” She suddenly wraps an arm around Sov’s waist. “They can’t have my fire lily! They’ll have to find their own!”

The mildly possessive gesture makes the heiress giggle and she leans in to kiss Daeynwe’s cheek.  
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, no one here is going to take me away.”

“Better not! My thorns are sharp, you know.”

Sov merely shakes her head and then turns to address her norn friend.  
“As for your comment, Rea, our family has indeed reached quite a popular and respected position, mostly due to the fact that we don’t simply hide in our estate. It is expected of people in our roles to attend town meetings and confer with our citizens, of course, but none of us have really acknowledged the need to isolate ourselves from other facets of daily life here. This is our home too and we don’t see why we should not visit the library, shop in the stores or occasionally drink at the tavern.”

Lishan snorts and folds her arms.  
“Well, me and Sovica do, but our mom is usually too busy.”

“That’s…true enough. She has a lot to do. And father tends to assist her.”

The townsfolk that wander past the guild are not merely what they would assume to be from Krytan descent either, but many Elonian and Ascalonian ones too, potentially others. Sov elaborates on this, claiming that some here are distantly related to the Vlasic family or have been friends for a very long time. Broadhollow is not exactly the melting pots that Lion’s Arch or Divinity’s Reach can be described as, though it is definitely not uniform.

During their slow and casual stroll, Raz’s ears does infrequently twitch with minor discomfort.  
“Well, you do seem to have a lot of friendly folks, but I don’t think I blend in very well.”

What he’s indicating is of course the existence of sporadic skeptical and slightly fearful stares from the people here. Not an element with the same voracity as in the capital, thankfully, but nevertheless an unmistakable angle. It makes the heiress sigh.  
“I’m sorry, Raz. I guess we can’t avoid it here either.”

“I reckon they’re just a lil’ spooked by your size”, says Lishan. “Many of our residents have visited Lion’s Arch or the eastern section of Gendarran before, where some charr hang out. I’ve actually heard of a warband that deserted some Legion years ago and built their own farm to the southeast. Haven’t been there myself, though.”

Their journey proceeds freely and unobstructed for several more minutes, but it finally faces one hurdle, when they’re about halfway through. Their attention veers towards a somewhat deeper voice coming from the east.  
“So, our illustrious princess finally deigns to come back home, huh? Guess I should recall those search parties, then.”

Everyone turns to view an older woman approaching, dressed in a heavy armor that they can effortlessly identify as belonging to the Seraph, but with a few more wings on the shoulders and neck. She has beige skin, quite a few wrinkles marking her age, a handsome exterior and short greying black hair. For those with knowledge of human physiology, it’s possible to presume that she’s of some kind of Canthan descent.

Despite her mildly disapproving choice of words, there’s still a small smirk on this soldier’s lips. Sov smiles at her, while Lishan, interestingly enough, straightens her back and throws a crisp salute.  
“Captain Xinyi”, the older sister utters. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, princess. Caused quite a stir when you just went up and ran out on us, you know.”

Sov clears her throat somewhat awkwardly.  
“I…yes, I’ve come to realize that. My apologies, Captain. I didn’t mean to exacerbate your problems.”

“Oh, I’m not mad, but I can’t say the same for your mother. Get the feeling she might have a few choice words for you.” Shortly following this revelation, she steers a more serious gaze towards Lishan.  
“Got your sister home at a decent pace, I see. I commend you for a job well done, Lieutenant. I expect a report on my desk by tomorrow, 0800.”

Lishan looks a little deterred, but does her best to stifle a groan.  
“Yes, ma’am.”

The rest of the guild watches the exchange with inquisitive eyes, as questions begin to pop up in their heads. The first one unable to keep quiet is Rea.  
“Hmm. Sounds like you two know each other. Does Lishan work for you, Captain?”

Xinyi quickly sizes the norn up and then offers a curt nod.  
“Naturally. I’m the CO of Seraph forces in this region and she’s my second-in-command. And I never let her forget it. Luckily, my second isn’t one to slack…in general. She’s more diligent with practical assignments than administration, though.”  
Taking the opportunity when it’s presented, the Captain scans the rest of the group too, making sure to mentally register their new guests.  
“Normally, I might assign some form of security risk to a group of this size with so many tools and weapons equipped, but…”

She practically waits for Sov to make her move and the noblewoman doesn’t disappoint. She takes a step forward and places a hand on her chest.  
“There is no need for such precautions, Captain. As a member of the same guild, I fully vouch for them and take responsibility for their actions.”

Xinyi shrugs expectantly.  
“I figured as much. I’ll make an exception this time. Haven’t had many norn and charr here, but cause no trouble in my town and you’ll get none.”

“Good to know”, Katla comments tersely.

“Don’t have to worry ‘bout us, Captain”, Raz attempts to reassure her. “We won’t get in your fur, or uh, hair. Only here to meet with Sovi’s family, promise. Besides, I’ve had to deal with enough military discipline back home to know what usually applies.”

Rea is surveying the older woman, being able to surmise by her stance and posture that she’s presumably a well-trained lady. Katla stares skeptically at her sister, knowing that Rea will undoubtedly find her attractive.  
“So, you guard this land? How large is your territory?”

“I command most of southern Gendarran, where Broadhollow is the largest settlement. If you don’t leave, you only have to contend with my ‘sunny disposition’.”

The ranger smiles playfully and plants her hands at her own hips.  
“Oh, I can certainly live with that. Maybe we should have a chat later. Kinda interested in the wildlife of this region.”

“Rea…”, warns Katla.

Before Xinyi can respond, she and the rest detect the sound of a larger array of footsteps coming from behind her.  
“Ah, here we go. Sent a runner to the manor when I heard of your arrival. Took some time for them to react, it seems.”

A small contingent of troops approach, though different from the Seraph that escorted them here. Compared to Xinyi, they evidently do not utilize Seraph symbols or uniforms.  
At the front of this groups walks a smiling man with light brown complexion and slick grey hair, which makes Sov beam.  
“Daytor!”, she exclaims.

The old man’s expression develops into a grin instead.  
“Glad to see me, are ya? Wouldn’t have thought so after all this time.”

The heiress laughs and envelops him in a hug, which he gladly accepts. The sight does leave the rest of the team in a bit of perplexed disarray.  
“Uh, who’s this?”, wonders Dae.

After Sov is done embracing him and patting his shoulder, she veers towards her friends, but stays by his side.  
“Let me introduce Daytor, Captain of the Vlasic Guard, our family’s personal protectors.”

“Wait, they’re not with the Seraph?”

Daytor shakes his head and decides to answer for himself.  
“Our organization has served the Broadhollow Vlasic family for well over a century and often hire people for life. Though I obviously haven’t been around for that long.”

Lishan smirks and crosses her arms.  
“You can’t always tell.”

Meanwhile, Rea glances between him and Xinyi.  
“Two Captains, huh? Must cause a few problems.”

The sterner of the two, Xinyi, simply snorts.  
“Not as long as he stays out of my jurisdiction.”

That makes Daytor laugh.  
“I see you’re already offering your widest smile for ‘em, Xi!”  
He soon returns his attention to the guild.  
“We received a Seraph messenger that told us we were expecting guests and I wanted to be the first to welcome the Blood Bond guild to Broadhollow. The word of your exploits in Ascalon has already reached us. My fellow guards and I shall escort you to the manor. Lady Sovica, your mother is waiting.”

An aspect that Sov had clearly anticipated, but now that she gets it confirmed, it becomes a whole lot more real.  
“Yeah. What sort of…mood is she in?”

He rubs his hand over his stubble of a beard.  
“Let’s say…cautious.”

That makes the heiress exhale in a mildly tired fashion.  
“Great. So it might be a long day, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I didn't plan for Rea to flirt with pretty much every notable Seraph woman, but here we are._


	8. Homecoming

The return home wasn’t quite what Sovica had imagined in her mind. Perhaps it was foolish paranoia or grudges that affected her, but she had previously visualized being dragged past the gates by the guards on a rainy and stormy day, after bounty hunters had captured her. When she departed, that’s the only manner in which she could envision coming back here.  
Instead, it is a fairly pleasant spring afternoon, heralded by caressing and rejuvenating breezes, the song of birds and the glistening sun above. Not that she minds, per se, for at least she is accompanied by her friends, who get to witness the manor in a favorable light.

After they had left the town through the southern exit, the group wandered a few hundred meters closer to the mountain range, as the estate is built in its vicinity, but still on the outside.  
The first aspect that the guild notes is of course the brick wall that encircles the rather large grounds of the Vlasic manor and the gate at the front. The latter is made of a durable metal, possibly steel, painted silver. The tops are decorated with miniature wings of Dwayna, but in the middle hangs an emblem with two crossed spears, the symbol of Kormir.

As the entrance is opened and they walk inside, the house they see is less lavish than most other homes belonging to human nobles, but still definitely larger than the regular citizen’s.  
This estate has an emphasis on length rather than height too, as there’s only one level and possibly a basement. There are a few minor buildings in its surroundings, as storage rooms, sheds and smaller gardens. Sovica informs the group that they have no servant quarters, due to living so close to the town.

The outer design of the manor is most intriguing, even though they’ve reject the need to follow typical Krytan standards of opulence. They seem to have built it in a mixture of Elonian, Ascalonian and Canthan architecture. Two small ‘towers’ exist on one side each, emulating old Ascalon City. At the same time, the sturdy foundation might remind those with the knowledge of constructions in Vabbi.  
To further mark their heritage, they have minor Kaineng-style additions, such as the framing, the windows and the fences, to symbol their link to Sayaki, Miljana’s wife.

The first creatures that the group is greeted with is a trio of cats, who rush to see what’s going on. One is a fierce and red-furred male, who walks confidently to cuddle with Sov; another is a thicker brown one that waits for affection; and lastly is a black and white speedy little things, who apparently has a lot of fun sprinting and playing around. Balten, Auguro and Sayaki respectively.  
Sov is very glad to pet them all, as is Daeynwe and Rea, but the others mostly ignore them.

In the courtyard, the guild gets to observe maybe the most ostentatious piece so far – a carved stone statue of a woman with braided hair tied into a bun at the back, dressed in hardened leather and a long flowing cloak that flaps in the wind. She holds a bow in one hand and the other arm is raised in defiance.  
“Who’s that?”, Katla asks tersely.

Before Sov can even respond, Ovillus interjects.  
“Oh, this must be Miljana Vlasic, correct?”, he asks with a bit of exhilaration in his voice. “I have seen her depicted in certain human tomes and art within Divinity’s Reach during my research period.”

The excitement makes Sov smile.  
“It is, indeed. Baroness Miljana Vlasic – Ascendant, hero, head of House Vlasic after 1080 AE and savior of Kryta.”

Rea folds her arms and smiles amusedly as she examines the piece.  
“Heh. She doesn’t look much like other nobles, huh?”

“She grew up as a hunter and a soldier, before she became an adventurer for almost ten years, so no, she never embraced the modern version of nobility.”

Ovillus strolls up to the statue, running his hand under his chin, while his eyes scour every inch of it.  
“I had not expected there to be a physical representation of her, though I have heard it is a common human tradition.”

“It tends to be, yes, but she’s not our only statue. There’s one of Sayaki in the backyard too.”

Further explanations are suddenly impended by the appearance of another, somewhat deeper voice.  
“It may be a peculiarity to some of you, but we prefer to honor our heroes and liberators in such a fashion, to immortalize them. It helps us remember who we are.”

All the eyes of the guild and their escorts immediately shift towards the entrance of the manor, where they spot a pair of individuals coming. It is a woman and a man in a similar age, both dressed in finery, but not incredibly luxurious attires.  
The woman has a solemn facial appearance, with large heavily greying black curls, dark brown eyes and a deeper shade of dark brown skin tone. Her build is fairly robust and the clothes she wears are predominantly in violet, but interwoven with gold, just like Sov’s outfit – the Vlasic colors.  
The man on the other hand has light brown skin, greying black shoulder length hair, neatly trimmed black beard and gentle green eyes. His frame is average, though his features can be described as very handsome, timeless in a way. He has preferred to garb himself in a dark green suit, with a white shirt underneath and gold buttons in the center. He is also taller than her. It can be no doubt to the group that this is Zodwa and Kylian, Sovica and Lishan’s parents.

Kylian walks with his arms behind his back and a small smile on his lips, while Zodwa’s neutral expression is still complicated to assess. In her left hand rests a polished and finely carved wooden cane. The entire group can see that she has a slight limp, but the source is difficult to trace, because of the long skirt covering her legs. Kylian apparently doesn’t seem to have any problems to adjust his pace to stay side by side with his wife.

Dae is a little confused by this sight and leans closer to Sov, so she can whisper.  
“Why does your mother walk like that? And what’s with the cane?”

These words make Sov blink perplexedly before she turns to view her girlfriend.  
“What?” Realization dawns on her swifter than the response. “Oh, I didn’t mention that. Uh, she…she has a prosthetic leg. She was in an accident when she was young. She prefers to use a cane for support.”

Now this is a word that Dae has heard, due to her connection with her sister, Veilidh, who has apparently built one such item in the past. Dae doesn’t quite know how to react.  
“…oh.”

Upon approach, Zodwa’s stance is composed and a tad constrained, though not angry. Instead, she looks cautious, like Daytor had implied, trying to determine where to go. Kylian’s more amenable expression allows him to step up to his daughter immediately and he offers a hug.  
“Sovica, my dear, it’s so good to see you home again.” His voice is smooth, but also a little quiet.

Sov happily accepts the gesture, leans into his arms and shuts her eyes.  
“I’m very glad to be, father. I’ve missed you.” After they part, he gentle caresses her cheek, while she studies his face.  
“Have you expanded the garden by now?”, she asks. “I remember that you were eager to procure those Caledon tulips that you ordered.”

He chuckles.  
“Of course, they arrived months ago. I’m currently in a distant negotiation with Ebonhawke to acquire a few special plum trees from Ascalon. Only need to persuade the charr High Legions.”

Soon, as Kylian moves to greet his younger daughter, Sov knows that she has to face the music. She can’t avoid this encounter forever.  
Slowly and delicately, she veers to view Zodwa.  
“Mother”, she utters, but doesn’t know how to proceed.

It’s Zodwa herself who finally pushes to make the move, as to not perpetuate this inane farce. She begins by directing a grateful nod towards their guard Captain.  
“I’m pleased that you escorted them here with such a timely pace, Daytor.”

Daytor bows and puts a hand to his chest.  
“Always, my lady.”

Following this little breather, Zodwa gradually commences the unruly scenario, in a careful manner.  
“I saw the note you left. I…must’ve read it a dozen times by now. I will admit that I was initially very distraught, as I clearly hadn’t anticipated such a bold and foolhardy move.”

Sov shuts her eyes.  
“Mother…”

Zodwa is standing with both hands held on the cane now, but lifts one to hamper her daughter's assumptions.  
“Wait, let me finish. What I wanted to say was, that my first reaction was inadequate and unfair. I have to acknowledge that your emotions do make a certain amount of sense.”

Today clearly doesn’t progress the way she had anticipated at all. Is her mother actually confessing her faults right off the bat? This is…unprecedented. Sov looks highly surprised.  
“You…you do?”

“Absolutely. It took time for me to accept this fact, but I see now that I pushed you too hard, stifled you in a way that was not justified, nor sensible. I should’ve been lenient and open-minded, offered you a chance to pursue your own goals. I permitted your elemental magic and history educations, and I should have been similarly charitable with your requests to depart from Kryta.”  
She lowers her gaze and caresses the top of her cane in thought.  
“I heard about the peace summit. The entire town was abuzz with the news.”

Shortly after this topic is raised, Kylian lays a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.  
“We are proud of what you did, Sovica. Proud that you displayed such confidence and capability.”

“Very proud indeed”, Zodwa admits and looks at Sov once more. “The Seraph report from Lieutenant Amera described your decorum, eloquence and oratorical proficiency. You lived up to the name of House Vlasic that day, as I should’ve expected from my daughter.”

Prior to arrival, Sov had figured that she’d be walking right into a fight when she came home, the inevitable clash with her mother that she had dreaded for months. In fact, it’s what stalled her decision to begin with. They’ve had this conflict many times before, during her relatively young life and Sov would’ve thought that Zodwa had prepared to vehemently reprimand her nonsensical daring-do. Perhaps she underestimated her mother’s aptitude for personal development.

She elects to close the distance to her mother and Zodwa wraps an arm around her daughter in a tender embrace. While she caresses Sov’s hair, she speaks softly.  
“I’ve missed you, my dear girl.”

In the meantime, Sov nuzzles into Zodwa’s shoulder.  
“Missed you too, mother. I…I’m sorry.”

“I am too. I do wish you would have told me when and where you were going, though. We could’ve discussed this matter together.”

Ah, of course, a slight retraction. Sov should’ve figured, but she’s not backing down.  
“You know that wasn’t plausible. You wouldn’t have budged.”

There’s a hint of reluctance in her voice, but Zodwa does have to concede.  
“I…suppose you have a point. I’ll try to work on that.”  
Very soon, Zodwa’s self-awareness takes ahold of her again, as she recognizes that they’re not alone. When her daughter straightens her pose, Zodwa attempts to reestablish the previous poise.  
“We should talk about the details later, in private. You did leave very abruptly.”

“Which was necessary.”

“Perhaps. For now”, she turns to her child’s companions, “these individuals interest me. Can I presume this is the Blood Bond guild we’ve heard so much about? They are quite a colorful array of individuals.”

Sov takes her mother’s free hand and guides her to the team.  
“Allow me to properly introduce them. They are not just my allies, for we’ve become close friends as well.  
The two tall ladies here on the right are the Svalen sisters, Katla and Rea. One of their potential ancestors, Brynja, was a companion of Miljana’s.  
They’re talented fighters and brilliant hunters. Couldn’t have survived our journey in both the Shiverpeaks and Ascalon without them.”

Zodwa is obviously forced to shift her gaze up here, as the norn are much taller than her, with the older sister being an entire meter above her. Katla is stoic as always, merely nodding, but Rea smiles and waves.  
“Hello there! It’s a mighty fine homestead you’ve got here. Oh, and you should be very proud of your daughter. She fights as skillfully as any norn! Well, almost. Can’t match a Svalen!”, she states and laughs heartily.

The statement and attitude make Zodwa arch her brow, but still provides a most cordial expression.  
“A peculiar point of view, miss Svalen, but I thank you. I hope you will feel welcome in our home, both of you.”

Sov gestures towards the next person, who ironically enough has the opposite physical appearance, being shorter than everyone else.  
“This is our most scholarly and scientific-minded member, Prof-“

“Actually”, the asura interrupts, “it is just Ovillus, though I do hope to one day secure this influential position for myself.  
It is a most fortuitous event to be welcomed into your abode, however, for I have studied the Vlasic family before. You see, I-“

It seems he’s not only one capable of halting, for Zodwa finishes the sentence for him.  
“Wrote a thesis on Miljana and the nature of Ascension. Yes, I know.”

She manages to startle the asura, who looks a little shocked.  
“…oh. You do?”

“Indeed. I’ve read it.”

His eyes now widen.  
“You have?!”

“Your College of Synergetics delivered a print of it for us, after its publication. Your theories regarding Miljana’s connection to Glint and Kralkatorrik, due to her crystal bow Truthseeker, was a fascinating speculation. Blasphemy, among much of our House, but I find such nuance to be refreshing.”

Ovillus is overwhelmed that his text wouldn’t just have been processed, but even praised. He bows despite himself.  
“I…I am honored by your acceptance, my lady! Should you ever want an extended debate about the contents, I would be thrilled to indulge your curiosity!”

Being very pleased with how this encounter turned out, Sov steers them to the next person in line.  
“This here is Razok Cogfang, of the Ash Legion and a talented engineer.”

The charr dusts his paws off on his jacket and then offers one to the Baroness. Zodwa is somewhat ambivalent at first, but she does decide to take it.  
“A pleasure to be here”, the charr declares. “Heard lots about you from Sovi.”

“Sadly, I can’t say the same for you”, she confesses. “But I must concede it is a surprise for there to be a charr in the company of my daughter.”

“Not a bad one, I hope.”

Zodwa considers both the phrase and her own opinion for a moment, and then shakes her head.  
“I’m not opposed to it. In the past, our peoples waged endless war and much of the old Clan Vlasic was annihilated by your Legions. But…I also know that Miljana herself gained some charr companions later in life, despite the mental wounds she had suffered. Maybe it is fitting that we renew this relationship. The Vlasic doors are open to you, mister Cogfang.”

He unveils a pleasant grin in return.  
“Much obliged, ma’am.”

And so, they’ve come to the last member, one that influences Sov to grab a deep intake of air and do her utmost to steady her heart.  
“And finally, this is Daeynwe. Not just a member of our guild…but my girlfriend.”

A dubious reaction to this statement had been expected, and unfortunately, this sentence is astonishing to both of her parents. They’re stunned into silence.  
Dae smiles brightly at them and waves eagerly as she hops over to Sov.  
“It’s amazing to finally meet you! I’m very excited to learn all about you and Sovi!”

Daytor chuckles and shakes his head in mild disbelief.  
“…Balthazar’s fire, girl, you just love to startle us, don’t you?”

Zodwa’s previous open-minded attitude moderately diminishes and she’s not entirely sure what to say.  
“I see. You…haven’t mentioned this.”

Sov remains unrelenting as she uses her other hand to hold one of Dae’s.  
“I know I didn’t relay it earlier, but I wanted to wait for the right moment. We have been together for months now, mother and I love Daeynwe with all my heart.”

On the other side of the group, Kylian stands next to his younger girl and looks a little troubled, prevailingly due to Zodwa’s potential disapproving perspective.  
Her mother hesitates, not seeming pleased in the slightest, but finally makes a bid at control. Her tone comes out somewhat strained.  
“I believe we shall have to discuss this later. For now, perhaps it’s best we head inside and partake of some refreshments.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, her mother is willing to let go of the drama regarding Sov's gallivanting ways, but being in love with a sylvari is entirely separate matter._   
>  _And if you remember the pairings for this story, the Svalen family will eventually become more involved with the Vlasics than they had anticipated._
> 
> _If you'd like to see how Miljana looks (and haven't checked the GW1 fics), I have a character list[on my blog](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/guild-wars-characters.html). It's the appearance in the third picture (though not that pose) that I imagine they've used for the statue. She did not commission it herself, however. In fact, it was built after her death._


	9. Espoused trajectory

Once initial introductions were completed, and the outside discussion had culminated in a remotely awkward finale, Blood Bond proceeded into the manor with the married couple, as the guards dispersed across its grounds. Stepping in through the door allowed the guild to experience the internal sights of the estate, which happens to be fairly similar in style as the exterior.

The furniture is predominantly inspired by Krytan design, likely due to being purchased from Krytan craftsmen, but there are many decorative pieces from Ascalonian and Elonian sources too.  
In one corridor hangs several skillfully made illustrations, portraits of Vlasic barons and baronesses over the centuries, though none of them depict either Miljana nor Sayaki. Apparently, this is based on an old demand from Miljana herself to “not make any damn paintings of me”. Apparently, she had forgotten to stipulate statues.

During the meal that the team shared with Sovica’s parents and sister, Zodwa mostly sat quietly on her chair and listened to the group regaling the family about their exploits, their many conflicts and difficulties along the way through Ascalon. Kylian was particularly astounded by how many times his daughter endured mortal danger and on the verge of confronting Grenth’s realm. He presumed it must’ve been harrowing, but Sov actually expressed excitement at the whole ordeal.

Now that this segment is over, during a gap in the narrative, Zodwa finally clears her throat and grabs their collective attention.  
“Sovica, my dear, could you come with me? I’d like to confer in private.”

The elementalist shifts to scrutinize her mother’s expression, but sees nothing that would cause alarm.  
“Of course.”

Sov rises from her seat, but before she gets anywhere, a hand is placed on hers over the table and she looks to the side, spotting her girlfriend gazing at her intently. Daeynwe gestures with a finger for her to come closer and she obliges.  
“If you need a helping hand, just call my name”, she whispers.

The human raises her eyebrow in a mildly entertained but also disbelieving fashion. Afterwards, she uses her other hand to poke Dae’s nose.  
“A sweet offer, but trust me, you can’t handle my mother.”

Dae is swift to reopen her mouth, possibly ready to spout some objection, but just as quickly surrenders such notions.  
“I…okay, probably not. Maybe shout if you need a hug or kiss at least?”

Sov has to stifle a giggle, prior to leaning down and granting Dae’s not-so-subtle request, by locking their lips in a brief, but enthusiastic kiss.  
“I’ll bear that in mind.”

As the two women depart from the company of the rest, they pass through a smaller corridor and into one of the solitary rooms in the back of the house, with just a few chairs, a table and some shelves with books. The journey towards this destination is infused with a thoroughly awkward silence, being a tad chilly even.  
Once they’re inside, they take one seat each and Zodwa rests her cane against the table, before she glances at her daughter.

“Dear, can you help me with the leg? My back has been hurting today and it gets worse if I bend too much while removing it.”

The younger women rise as rapidly as she sat down and approaches to assist, acting like the dutiful daughter she is.  
“Sure, I’m coming.” She aids with the unfastening of some straps and notes a moderately worrying element.  
“This thing is attached pretty tightly.”

Her mother sighs and shakes her head.  
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I wonder if I should perhaps get a new one commissioned at some point. When I ordered this one, I urged stability over comfort. Now I get the feeling that this was a little shortsighted.”

As Sov places the prosthetic next to the chair, Zodwa removes the cloth that protects the bottom of her leg and leans back.  
“If you wish, I could speak to Razok later. I don’t know if he has ever constructed an item like this before, but he’s very skilled, so he could give it a shot.”

“Hmm. You’re sure he’s able to adapt to the size of a human?”

She stands up and shrugs.  
“You’d have to ask him, but from what I’ve observed of his handiwork, it shouldn’t be inconceivable.”

“Alright, I will consider it. Perhaps we’ll have a chat later, he and I.”  
She lingers in a temporary cloud of silence after this is said, pondering the next step. She wants it to be premeditated and benign. Or at least not caustic.  
“You’ve been through a lot of events in the past few months”, she infers. “Down here, we heard solely about the peace summit, which was inarguably an impressive feat, but it sounded to me like we missed out on a lot of turbulence.”

By now, her daughter has returned to the opposite side of the table and Sov folds her arms, trying to maintain an unfazed exterior.  
“My life has definitely been filled with a lot of chaos in the last few months, but I wouldn’t necessarily claim that’s a bad thing. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve learned during my journey, mother, how much I’ve seen. I feel like I have grown as both a person and a scholar.”

“New experiences and adversities tend to have that effect, I know. Like I stated earlier, I certainly do not wish to suffocate or hide your potential and growth…but I also hope that you haven’t forgotten what happens here in Broadhollow.”

Sov felt it was inevitable that they would eventually creep up on this topic, even though she is still leery on where Zodwa intends to direct them. Maybe it’s wise to slow the pace and be patient.  
“I obviously haven’t. Doesn’t my arrival prove as much?”

“Ah, a fair point. I am glad that you decided to accept the invitation; although I hadn’t anticipated such an array of guests.”  
While Sov’s gaze is drawn away, fidgeting with her clothes, Zodwa looks at her directly.  
“It is imperative that you attend all of this year’s congregation, Sovica. The people need to see you with your family and being involved in the details of the political process.”

Sov exhales from her nose, trying her utmost to control her temper. She doesn’t like it when her mother acts as if she isn’t already cognizant of these aspects.  
“I know, mother”, she states calmly. “I am glad to be here, which is why I came in the first place, but…I hope you realize I still plan to continue my travels after this is over. There is so much of Tyria that I wish to see and study.”

Zodwa’s brow forms a faint frown, but she curbs her possible misgivings and qualms a little, as she did promise to remain open-minded.  
“And what exactly is it that you and your friends have in mind?”

“Well, I think we made it explicit during our story. We have already concluded that we want to dedicate our efforts to fighting dragon minions and gradually diminish their presence in this world.”

Her mother puts her hands together in her lap and lowers her gaze.  
“That sounds…brave, but also unnecessarily dangerous.”

“I don’t believe anyone can avoid hazards of some kind in these types of deeds, but that shouldn’t deter us either. Our group has proven that we can succeed with the most grueling tasks and defeat turmoil and destruction wherever we go, as evidenced by our clash in the Fields of Ruin.”

And here comes the first sigh that signifies Zodwa’s apprehension. She has to actually voice her own opinion on the matter now.  
“Look, dear, I’m not contending your right to personal freedom and the ability to pursue your own goals, but I hope you understand when I say that I’m hesitant to have my daughter engage with death on a regular basis. I trust in Grenth’s judgment, but I would prefer that he does not take my child too soon; by no means before I transcend to his domain.”

A frown materializes on Sov’s face and she aims it directly at her mother, taking umbrage at that description.  
“And who said it would be ‘regular’? It’s occasional at most. There were many peaceful days on our voyage too, mother. In fact, since the peace summit, we have gone months without any major collisions at all.”

Zodwa challenges her daughter’s glare head on, but her expression remains unscathed.  
“But only one is required for catastrophe to strike. Sovica, you aren’t just important to me, but to the future of Kryta. You are destined to join the next generation of political leaders when I one day step down. Only you can seize this role. If you perpetuate this notion of endangering yourself in such an audacious fashion, neither of us may get to see that day.  
I respect your choices, but I implore you to contemplate your future.”

Naturally, Sovica is of a disparate mind; though her intensity does soften an inch.  
“I beg to differ, mother. Because I’m meant to be a leader, because I have trained and honed my talents, I should act. If I simply sit behind these safe walls and cower while our people suffer, then what kind of leader will I grow into? I’d be ignoring the very citizens that I’m supposed to rule. How is that okay, or even feasible?”

Not an inherently unfair or erroneous view. Many would probably laud her for such compassion and Zodwa won’t scold her for it. However, she does have a contention.  
“I could argue the reverse – I never had the opportunities you are presented with now, to develop into the leader you aspire to be. Does that make me less important, less valued?”

Sov shuts her eyes and buries her face in her hands.  
“Please, don’t be ridiculous. You know that’s not what I meant. Hence why I specified _honing my skill_. I have alternatives and ventures, you didn’t. Why should I ignore that?”

Before this escalates into a literal quarrel, Zodwa elects to put it aside and instead move onto another subject, though still related.  
“If you're this determined, I guess I'll let it slide. For now.  
So, Daeynwe. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t startled by this revelation, but she is undoubtedly a nice young woman.”

It appears she is conscious of how to say the right things, as Sov’s face softens, even revealing a faint smile.  
“She is wonderful, mother. I really urge you to talk with her more. There is so much you can both learn from each other.”

Zodwa is loath to immediately assent to this proposal, but she doesn’t dismiss it either.  
“Trust me when I say that I’m most keen on having further discussions with her.  
However, I’m also curious of how far you are currently intending to take your relationship. How…serious is it?”

Sov is marginally bemused by the question, but not oblivious of the intent.  
“Uh, I…don’t know yet.” Her eyes descend to her hands placed on the table and she starts to roll her thumbs. “I mean, I love her and right now, I can’t see anything getting between us.”

Thankfully, hearing this passionate word leave her daughter’s mouth, does allow her lips to curve.  
“Good. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you feel this way…but also concerned.”

“Why? You have something against it?”

“Not at all, but others might. And I worry for you.” She inhales deeply and crosses her arms. “People have been leery enough when it comes to my tenure. Nobles in both adjacent and distant demesnes have posed questions regarding my demeanor, my capabilities due to my disabled state, my political stances and at one point or another, some have even challenged our family’s origin – though we did at least receive some defenders from the latter.”  
Now, she directs her poignant gaze to her daughter.  
“What do you think will happen if you bring a sylvari wife into the mix? If you are truly adamant on this route, I won’t stop you, but I also wish for your actions to be calculated.”

Sov is both troubled and vexed by these implications and points.  
“You know what I think? That whatever other people feel shouldn’t matter in regard to my private life. If I’m in love and I cherish the person I’m with, that should be the end of it.”

Zodwa is silent for a moment, pondering her reply. The shrug that follows is a little resigned.  
“It should, perhaps, but it isn’t always so. I love Kylian, but I can’t deny that marrying him was, at the time, politically beneficial. The Beaumonts were and are a very old Krytan family.  
I will not dictate your life, but I would recommend that you keep other avenues in mind. What about Fevarro’s son, for example? We did discuss the potential for marriage a while back. Our realms are very close to one another, you could work in tandem and it wouldn’t prevent you from still maintaining contact with Daeynwe, should you desire to.”

The elementalist is exasperated with this suggestion and rises from her chair.  
“Not interested. Marriage ties to other houses out of convenience isn’t my wish, mother. I could never be with anyone for such meager motivations. It would make us all unhappy.”

Zodwa does appear moderately saddened by this prospect, definitely a fate that she doesn’t want to befall her beloved child. She lifts her hands in the air.  
“Alright, I won’t push the issue. It is your life and therefore your decisions. But…well, I just want to help. To give you a better future.”

Sov swirls to face her and approaches her mother’s seat. She stares straight into the older woman’s eyes and wraps her fingers around Zodwa’s hands.  
“Then support me, mother. Help me wherever I need it. Don’t enable their beliefs. You have always struggled to stand up for your perspectives, even when people twist them and call you improper. Why not do the same here?”

These words quickly start to resonate with the older woman, knowing that Sov speaks the truth. Zodwa rotates her hands, intertwines their fingers and yields.  
“For you, I will try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Psych! Started off as a potential quarrel and ended in sweet mother and daughter moment. Kinda_


	10. Garden tales

The visit to the Vlasic estate continues in the same calm, intriguing and perhaps just mildly tense manner that it has followed thus far.  
While the rest of the team gets settled into their various quarters provided by the family and Sovica discusses some preparations for the political conference with her mother, Daeynwe was invited to another type of endeavor.

Lishan had offered her sister’s girlfriend a small tour through the exterior of the estate, since her Seraph shift for the day was over, an opportunity that the sylvari simply couldn’t decline. She really wishes to see and experience more of the home that nurtured and shaped the woman that she loves.  
As the two meet up, Lishan has discarded the gear she wears while on duty and is instead clad in a more comfortable set of beige pants, a belt, sturdy boots and a button-up green shirt, with rolled up sleeves, revealing some of her toned build underneath. She certainly stays in shape.

It’s pretty sunny as they wander around and immediately upon entering the garden, Dae shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, receiving a whole array of smells; flowers, fruits, fertile dirt and the essence of a thriving nature. Her own innate bodily structure appears to grant her a more profound connection to their surroundings.  
They follow a small paved road, which leads past various patches of colorful flowers and tall trees, smoothly cut grass and cleverly constructed fences in between, to keep them all apart.

“Dad comes here very often and keeps most of it maintained”, Lishan explains. “Think he might actually do almost as much work as the servants we employ. He’s got ‘green fingers’ as they say; loves seeing things grow. Including his kids, of course.”

Dae has her arms folded, her amber eyes drifting across their surroundings, but her ears are keenly listening to the words.  
“Does he ever push you to get uh…grandchildren for him? I believe that’s what humans call it.”

Lishan chuckles, amused by Dae’s slight confusion at the term, like she’s not used to it. Then again, most sylvari probably aren’t.  
“No, he doesn’t. He never pushes anyone, which can be both good and bad. That said, don't think he can deny that he'd want us to have some. We’ll have to wait and see what the future has in store for us, I guess.”

There are a few facilities all around the main house, mostly storage, equipment and a few exterior guest rooms too, in case they ever get so many that they can’t fit them in the manor. That is an extremely rare occurrence, however. It is in the more open sections of the backyard, that benches and a small stage is being prepared for the conference.   
At the very back of the garden, among the non-fruit trees, there are also a bunch of erected constructions and a statue. Perhaps the former can even be labeled as sculptures.

The statue, standing in a similarly prominent position as Miljana on the front and presumably crafted of the same material, is one that Dae can easily discern as a woman in a long coat, with long hair in a high ponytail and fairly lengthy bangs too. In her hands are two gleaming and masterfully crafted daggers, almost as sharp as the confident smile which lingers on her lips.

“She seems to be having fun”, Dae comments.

“Heh, yeah, a lot of people have said she did. This is Sayaki, wife of Miljana. She was, as we’ve already mentioned I think, the daughter of a cousin to Emperor Kisu of Cantha.  
The bow you saw in Miljana’s hands was Truthseeker, a gift she was granted by the famous dragon Glint. These daggers were her creations for Sayaki – the Bloodcursed Fangs.”

Dae nods slowly, not at all bothered to hear the info again. She even turns to view Lishan directly.  
“What was she like?”

Lishan corrects a hairband that rests just above her forehead and ponders the query for a second or two.  
“A lot of things, according to the stories. She had a troubled past – identity issues, conflicts with the family which made her run away for many years, joined gangs in Kaineng and then eventually fled Cantha entirely, to look for work in Kryta. That’s how she stumbled into Miljana and her friend Devona, as those two were leading refugees from Ascalon.  
We don’t know all the details, obviously, but I remember hearing that Sayaki eventually managed to improve her family situation thanks to her team, but she chose to stick around in Kryta anyway. Not just for falling in love with Miljana, but the people here too. They say that the wedding between the two was held in Kaineng, though.”

Dae tilts her head curiously.  
“Does her connections ever bother you or make you consider what it means for you and your family?”

A peculiar, though not exactly undue question. It makes Lishan snort somewhat amusedly.  
“No, not really. Krytans have never cared and it doesn’t affect us in any noticeable way. It’s a nice historical quirk, that’s about it.  
Besides, Sayaki wasn’t a particularly high-profile member of the royal family to begin with and held a lot of distance from the throne. Didn’t want it and as she spent more of her life in Kryta than Cantha, it’s unlikely that they even remember her. Well, beyond what her team did to help save them from a dangerous menace, I guess.”  
Lishan plants her hands at her hips as she lifts her gaze to Sayaki’s visage.  
“She was and is important here, to the Vlasics, and that’s what matters. We remember and honor her actions, on par with our admiration for Miljana. After all, without her, we’d never have existed.”

After leaving the statue behind, they approach another area nearby, in between the trees themselves. There are six shrines erected in a half circle here, and of course they belong to the Six Gods, lauded entities among the Vlasics and humanity overall.  
“I’ve never really understood the whole ‘god’ thing”, Dae confesses. “Nice sculptures, though.”

She makes Lishan giggle.  
“Yeah, don’t worry, I get it. Never been extremely religious myself. It’s more Sovica’s and mom’s thing. Dad and I are more alike. We honor and respect ‘em for what they did – bringing humanity to this world – but we don’t spend a lot of time praying or contemplating their teachings.”

“Six gods seem like a lot too. Do you worship all of them equally or…?”

The soldier considers this notion for a second or two, before she tilts her head sideways back and forth.  
“It depends. Some do, some don’t.  
Our family, while we praise all Six, tend to veer a lil’ more towards Kormir, Dwayna and Melandru. Hence the wings and spears at the front gate.”

“Oh, right. That’s what they were. Interesting.”

“Dwayna’s healing and adherence to peace means a lot to us. Melandru was an important figure in our past, when we had a hunting community in both Elona and Ascalon. And Kormir, while being a new god by the standards of the Six, was still one that Miljana and Sayaki helped to ascend. Also, Kormir’s virtues of truth and order are critical tenets to us as well.”  
She seems satisfied with this response at first, before she stops herself and raises a finger.  
“Ah, there’s one in our House who deviates a bit from this line. Our cousin, Derija, has stronger ties to Grenth. She’s always had a great fascination for necromancy and her gifts developed very quickly, more so than Sovica did with the elements. Some believe she’s blessed by the god of death, because of this.”

“Heh, I see. Is that actually true?”

Lishan lifts her arms into a shrug.  
“Who can say? The gods are very…elusive. Don’t often tell us what they want and intend directly.  
However, these shrines mean more to us than just praying and honoring the Six. They’ve got a lot of history, as some pretty fun things have happened here in the past.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, mom and dad got married here, for example. Uh, before I was born, of course, but they’ve told us about it. Both me and my sis were granted our names in the view of these shrines too, as mom hoped to get guidance and blessings from the Six.”  
A faint smirk soon materializes and expands on her lips.  
“And some funny occurrences have happened to Sovica here too, that I tend to tease her about.”

Naturally, this promptly captures Dae’s attention, who conspiratorially slides closer, sporting a sly smile.  
“Anything you wish to…gossip about?”

Lishan tilts her head back to laugh.  
“Figured you’d like that. Well, she and I used to hide here a couple of times when we were younger, whenever we’d done some mischief.  
I also recall hearing that she kissed a boy next to the shrine of Lyssa during her teenage years. Daytor found out, though, so that never went very far. Oh, and a few years ago, there was this girl, one of the farmer’s kids, who tried to woo my sister by dancing with her in the center of the shrines. Very romantic stuff, if that girl hadn’t been such a poor dancer.”

Dae seems captivated to hear all of it, the second tale especially making her snicker.  
“Aww, that’s delightful! Now I wonder if I should try something like that here too at some point. I’m not very skilled at planning romantic encounters, but…”

The human smiles and playfully bumps her shoulder into Dae.  
“Give it a try. I reckon it’ll be worth it. I mean, you’ve already stolen her heart, so you’ll probably have fun either way.”

“Heh, maybe.”

Shortly after, they’re about to depart, but a noise from above impedes Lishan’s steps – the twittering song of a bird. She stops and turns around, allowing a brilliant smile to form as she beholds a little avian creature up in one of the trees.  
“And look what we’ve got here”, she says and points up. “See the lil’ fella on that branch? It’s a South Krytan red-tailed sparrow.”

Dae instantly spins around at this revelation, her intrigued eyes fervently searching for the animal.  
“Sparrow? Isn’t that what you called Sovi?”

“Yep. And yes, it’s related to the bird.”

“How did you come up with it?”

Lishan inhales and moves her hands behind her back, her dark eyes continuously studying the bird as it jumps from one branch to another, aided by its small wings.  
“When we were younger, and my sister was training to improve her magic, she was struggling. She was having some trouble with spells connected to earth energy. It was frustrating as the Mists for her and the more she strained and pushed herself, the worse it got. Totally forgot that you need to keep calm and focused to get better results. Nothing she did could change it for weeks and even though people told her to relax, she just couldn’t. In fact, it kinda started to piss her off, because she didn’t enjoy being treated like a kid.”

The sparrow chirps and sings for a little, before it notices the shrines below. It hops down and lands on top of Balthazar’s. The god of fire and war might not appreciate such brazen moves, but the bird doesn’t care.  
“And then one day”, Lishan continues. “it finally changed once she encountered a curious lil’ sparrow. It was a bold one too, flew all the way down to where Sovica was sitting and cursing, to land on one of her botched earth creations. It was interesting, since wild birds around here rarely come that close. For some reason, it wanted to have a chat.  
My sister was quite excited by it, and in her wish to shrink the distance even further, she began to craft a tiny nest out of dirt, utilizing a spell. Without even thinking about it too – pure instinct.”

Dae grins as she tries to visualize it, getting somewhat excited by the tale.  
“What happened?”

“The sparrow landed right in the center and sat with her for a while. My sister was overjoyed, of course and had forgotten her worries for a time. From that day forward, her spellcrafting improved.  
I was watching the whole thing and once I thought about it, the bird kinda reminded me of my sister at that point – vibrant, small, a lil’ chubby, but still so relentlessly inquisitive and eager to poke everything. I told Sovica this, but she disagreed and began to pout when I insisted. And, well, teasing her is kinda my second job, so naturally I had to give her the nickname. She’s been Sparrow to me ever since. Pretty sure she likes it now.”

She’s had a lot of fun so far, but this story is especially entertaining, so much that Dae laughs louder than she did before. She places a hand on the soldier’s shoulder.  
“You’re great, Lishan. I’d love to hear more ones like this, if you have any.”

Lishan mimics Dae’s previous grin.  
“Oh, you bet. Loads of ‘em. Let’s grab a drink later and I’ll tell ya all about it.”


	11. Lair of the heir

Being invited into her girlfriend’s room, the most private quarters, unseen nooks and crannies. It really shouldn’t be much of a big deal at all, but Daeynwe keeps internally inflating it. Sovica has kept insisting, though, since they’ve come all this way and who is she to argue? And yet…

As they wander through the neatly decorated hallways, constantly oozing with an aura of history, and close in on their destination, the deepest treasure of the woman she cherishes, Dae feels a profound sensation to restate her doubts.  
“I know this is going to sound stupid, but are you absolutely okay with me joining you in there?”

Sovica has dressed down a little since they arrived, just like her friends have attempted to. Or at least Dae has, because it has been difficult to find alternatives for the rest inside this house, due to their varying sizes. This means that the heiress herself is wearing a simple sky blue dress littered with maroon-colored bird symbols, while Dae has a green high-collared shirt and somewhat tighter white pants.

The elementalist sports a gentle and mirthful smile as she caresses her beloved’s nearest cheek.  
“Don’t be silly, Dae. Why wouldn’t I be? How long have we been together now? Months? We’ve slept in the same bed numerous times. This is no different.”

Dae wouldn’t really be one to call herself ‘shy’ in almost any situation, but this is a very special occasion and Sov is the only person who could ever produce that sensation within her. It’s why her eyes drift away, and she fidgets with her collar, to find some way to stay occupied.  
“Well, I could argue that this is a little more private. Or a lot.  
That’s not to say I don’t want to enter, just...”

Despite her misgivings, Dae does not slow their approach in any physical way, allowing Sov to guide her. It is still indeterminable whether she will actually join the human in the room, though. Sov considers the situation and realizes that she must employ some more intimate maneuvers.  
With a few meters to go, she takes Dae’s hand and stops them both, before narrowing the distance between them. Sliding her soft fingers across the more tenacious hide of the sylvari’s cheek, Sov’s brown eyes scour the amber ones of her lover, before pulling her into a brief, yet ardent kiss. Once it passes, her grasp rises to the red hair and gingerly brushes against its tips.

“Stop fussing. It’s perfectly fine, Dae. You belong here, with me.”

The sylvari’s purple skin suddenly flares up, activating the inherent and natural glow, a sign of her embarrassment, but also a touch of excitement. She can’t deny that she wants this.  
“O…okay”, she whispers. “But um…have you ever invited anyone else in there?”

Sov’s eyes dart back and forth for a second or two, briefly running the query through her head. They’re unbearable moments, for Dae at least.  
“I have…but none as significant as you.”

If there ever was a correct answer to this question, Sov just nailed it. With mounting exhilaration, Dae flashes a small grin and playfully nudges her nose into her girlfriend’s.  
“Alright, let’s do it, I guess.”

After entwining their fingers once more, Sov pushes the mahogany door to her room open and they practically glide into the crib. Their arrival is ushered by a pleasant fragrance, like a field of hyacinths.  
“Welcome to the ‘lair of the heir’ as they call it. An old name, really, but it doesn’t seem to get unstuck.”

Certainly an interesting, while apt name, but this isn’t what catches Dae’s attention. No, instead, a whole separate fact hits her – this is big. She widens her eyes in slight awe, as she lets them sweep across its breadth. Not exactly a castle, but there’s a comparison that prods her thoughts.  
“This is almost as big as some entire sylvari homes”, she remarks.

The heiress blinks at first, prior to clearing her throat in light embarrassment.  
“Uh, well…it’s not as big as many other noble abodes. It isn’t what one might describe as ‘humble’, but not opulent either…mostly.”

The two of them have closed the door and now stroll into the center. Listening to the deflection makes Dae flash a grin in her direction.  
“Hey, no need to feel bad. I didn’t mean anything by it. I think it’s just that our houses are smaller than human ones in general. Less space and lots of people to fill them, I guess.”  
She lifts and spreads her arms.  
“Honestly, this place looks lovely. Must’ve been great growing up in here.”

Her allayment appears to succeed and Sov’s joyous expression returns.  
“It was, yes. Still is, I suppose. Want to explore?”

Dae nods ecstatically.  
“You bet!”

They begin to comb through and peruse the interior, digesting each section piecemeal, so that they can review as much as possible. Dae is too inquisitive to rush this process.  
Another two elements quickly crop up and distinguish themselves. The first is the lack of dolls. Dae can’t recall from where those rumors reached her, but she had heard that human children adore and collect such items, like little miniature humans. Seemed strange to Dae, but she doesn’t get a chance to inspect any, for Sov has none. Oh well.  
What she has in ample supply, however, is books. Loads, practically entire mountains. Not a surprise per se, but they are nearly flooding the whole room, being strewn in every corner. The majority are arranged in proper rows and systematic orders, but others have simply been haphazardly dropped on tables and shelves, even the bed.

“Ever the bookworm, huh?”, Dae remarks with a touch of mischief in her voice.

She manages to create a tiny smirk on Sov’s lips, who pokes the sylvari’s cheek.  
“Shush. And yes, I know this is a bit of a mess. I tend to forget them sometimes. I pick one up, start reading and then get distracted as I have to cross-check with a secondary source, which makes me forget what I was even doing.” She pensively scratches her cheek.  
“A little surprised that none of the servants picked them up, since they’ve obviously cleaned the rest of the room. Maybe mother told them not to.”

On the left side of the chamber, there’s a finely polished and sturdy wooden desk, with a bunch of bookshelves right next to it. Except for a heap of additional scrolls and publications, Dae can see a few special documents. She would classify them thus, due to being laced with gold and fancy symbols.  
“Are these some kind of rewards?”

As Sov veers to that location, a wistful sensation washes over her.  
“Ah, yes, a few are. The certificates you see here on the far left are my diplomas, distributed by my teacher at the Royal Krytan Thaumaturgical Academy. They’re for passing Elemental Magic Study and Advanced Human History Research.”

She doesn’t say it, but Dae can hear the pride in Sov’s voice.  
“Sounds impressive.”

“Thank you. I also have minor degrees in politics and ethics. Those were…illuminating too, in their own ways.”

Dae detaches herself a little from her girlfriend and shuts the distance to another fascinating document. There’s a particular symbol that catches her interest.  
“Wait, does this one have a sword on it?”

Sov steers her attention towards the new target and chuckles.  
“It does. That’s an old trophy, actually. First prize in the 1317’s royal fencing youth contest.”

This was a thoroughly unexpected discovery and Dae whirls towards her girlfriend with mildly baffled eyes.  
“Fencing? Wait, you can fight with swords?”

Sov folds her arms with smug confidence.  
“Impressed?”

“Shocked, more like.”

The pose quickly abates, as she emits another small laugh.  
“I have some training, yes, but fencing isn’t exactly like actual combat. It has much more rules and regulations, which decreases analogies to real life.  
I hadn’t actually anticipated a victory that one time I participated. I mainly signed up because my group of friends at the time persuaded me, to do it as a joint activity. Well, and because the trainer who instructed us insisted that I was a natural talent. I stopped pretty much right after the contest, though. Wasn’t my thing.”

On top of this award, she appears to have three school-related prizes, from various scholarly competitions. Two of them are merely for participation, but the last one has a more monumental rank.  
“Ooh, what’s this? Second prize? That’s impressive!”

Unfortunately, when she turns to view Sov’s reaction, the heiress’ eyes are diverted elsewhere, a shadow of disappointment coating them.  
“Meh. Could’ve been better.”

Dae is confused. Coming second sounds good to her, unless there were only two contestants.  
“I think it’s pretty awesome, anyway.”

Sov struggles with her own irritation, colliding with her wish not to take it out on Dae. It makes her exhale rather heavily.  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-…it’s just that…  
That year, I spent weeks writing an historical essay about the Elonian exodus succeeding Palawa Joko’s conquest of the nation. I rummaged through old documents, recorded diaries, writs, official scrolls and more. I tried to compose a coherent compilation regarding their reception upon arrival, the geographical distribution of population and an assortment of personal reactions and feelings from the immigrants during their first few years.  
I thought it would stand out, as I don’t believe anyone had done this before, and while the judges claimed it was an interesting read, it wasn’t enough to give me first prize.”

“Oh, okay. Who won, then?”

The heiress emits a disgruntled huff.  
“Someone that decided to write about the early Krytan royal family. Boring and unimaginative.”

“…why is it boring?”

“Because everyone does that! It’s often just uninspired patriotic drivel. Mine was an unprecedented story, an accumulation of tales we don’t often see, in our blinded wish to preserve all our history. We can’t forget about those on the outside, who have different experiences. Letting a Krytan subject win again was just so-“  
In the middle of her little rant, she faces Dae and notices the mildly nonplussed expression. The sylvari is a bit out of her elements here. Sov decide to rein the rest of her complaints in, realizing that this isn’t the place.  
“…sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…overwhelming.”

Luckily, Dae is a sympathetic soul and therefore flashes a compassionate smile as she wraps an arm around Sov’s shoulders.  
“Don’t be. I like your passion. Just…sometimes I can’t quite follow. But hey, at least you made that essay, right? Means that someone has read it and others will in the future.”

“True. I guess that’s some form of solace. Anyway, shall we continue?”

On and around the desk, Dae notes various gleaming bits and pieces. Jewelry, quite clearly, in the shapes of rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces. All very beautiful and extravagant objects, of course and most are interwoven with hues of violet. More Vlasic colors.  
However, the most peculiar object of a similar nature, though evidently not the same, sits in some type of small glass container, situated on a higher shelf. Dae steps into its vicinity and pushes herself onto her toes to take a closer look.

“What’s this? A crystal?”

It’s small, no larger than a sliver, but it still twinkles in the light of the sun from the window.  
Sov crosses her arms and walks up behind Dae, but doesn’t hamper her curiosity.  
“Mhm. It’s supposedly a shard of Truthseeker, Miljana’s famous bow, which was given to her oldest daughter. Sadly, there is no longer anything enchanted with it. The magic leaked out of it long ago. It’s a nice little trinket, though.”

Dae inclines her head in agreement, feeling a bit mesmerized by it for a while, until she finally tears her gaze away.  
“Oh, they had a daughter?”

“Two, actually, as well as two sons. Come”, she tells the sylvari and gestures with her hand.

They leave the shard and instead wanders into a corner of the room. There, hanging on the wall, is an old but incredibly well-preserved portrait of a young woman, presumably in her 20s. She stands in full light regalia of some kind, though it’s not an armor that Dae can identify, except for one symbol on the arm – the golden bird of House Vlasic. She has long fine and interlaced black dreadlocks, while her skin is a bit lighter brown than Sov’s. A thick aura of elegance and dignity surrounds her, as she holds her head high, one hand on the hilt of a saber.

“Ooh, she’s cute and sort of cool”, Dae comments delightfully. “Who is it?”

“Shufen Vlasic, the oldest child and daughter of Miljana and Sayaki. She was named after Sayaki’s little sister.  
Just like me, she was the heir and the first person to actually use these quarters. It was initially created specifically for her.”

Dae arches a slightly bemused brow at her girlfriend.  
“And…why do you have a picture of her?”

This same emotion is emulated in Sov, as she blatantly hadn’t expected this counter query. She thought it’d be obvious. Shortly after, she giggles.  
“You dunce – I didn’t have it made! It was commissioned by Sayaki, like over two centuries ago. It’s just been sitting here since its creation. I suppose we consider it a…tradition, to respect its historical value.”

“…right! Okay, that makes more sense.”

“Shufen was more magically inclined than her mothers, though. Ended up being a very talented mesmer. It’s also said that she was a member of the Shining Blade.”

“…the what?”

“It’s an old organization, the group that fought and defeated the White Mantle. Since then, they’ve been more of a secret society. Their foremost concern is to protect the crown.”

After they’re done reviewing the most noteworthy elements in the room, another small item catches Dae’s interest. She finds a bunch of notepads stacked up and like the nosy little woman she is, opens one posthaste.  
“What’s this?”

Sov briefly scans the specific book, before she sighs.  
“Dae, you shouldn’t go snooping around so much.”

“Hmm, why not? Don’t want me to look in your diary, perhaps?”, she inquires with heightened enthusiasm.

“Not really. I don’t have a diary.”

“Then what’s this, huh?”  
Dae establishes some distance between them, preventing Sov from snatching the pad from her, before she ransacks the contents. Unfortunately, she swiftly grows disappointment.  
“Ugh, what’s this? Just a ton of timestamps.”

Suddenly, after Sov discovers what exactly it entails, she moves closer and tries to take it back.  
“It’s…nothing.”

Well now. If it’s actually of embarrassing importance to her, Dae definitely can’t let it slide. She positions one hand at the heiress stomach, while holding the other as far away from her lover’s grasp as possible.  
“Nothing, is it? Then you won’t mind giving me some details?”

It appears the notes doesn’t carry enough significance for Sov to physically struggle to retrieve it, but she does seem mildly uncomfortable.  
“Nothing you would find compelling. Give it to me.”

Dae smirks, lifting her hand to Sov’s chin, playfully tilting it up.  
“Oh, lily, anything about you is appealing to me, no matter how small.”

A squabble concerning this miniscule piece is apparently not worth the effort, which is why Sov finally gives in.  
“Alright, if you insist.  
When I still lived and studied at the academy, I used to spend part of my spare time reading books in the library. I had a lot of fun categorizing various tomes and dissertations on the Guild Wars, a long and bloody period in human history, concentrated on the Tyrian continent. The library ordered the volumes chronologically, but I used to devote my breaks to devise new arrangements in my notebooks, based on battles, years, nations involved etc.”

She tries to keep her explanation professional and steady, but the awkward sensations rise to the surface as Dae begins to look progressively smugger.  
“You’re such a nerd, lily.”

Sov gasps in somewhat feigned indignance.  
“…I’m a scholar!”

Nevertheless, the sylvari giggles teasingly.  
“That’s just a fancy title. Doesn’t hide who you are.”  
Seems like Dae thinks she can get away with this, which slowly begins to frustrate Sov. She pouts at her girlfriend and attempts to take the book, but Dae is too flexible, too nimble. When the rogue just won’t give up, Sov redirects her attention from the item, to her lover’s body. Fingers slither across the sylvari’s torso, slipping into various cracks, and tickles her.  
“Nooo, wait! You can’t do this!”, she shouts, while trying to escape.

“Then give me the book!”

“Never!”

The strife continues, as Sov brilliantly manages to herd Dae straight towards the large bed placed in the center of the far wall. Without even realizing or predicting the conclusion, Dae drops right on it, upon soft lilac sheets, with lots of frilly pillows and an incredibly adaptive mattress, making her practically sink into it.  
After a few seconds of disorientation, trying to comprehend her position and situation, a new plan soon takes root. Her gaze turns to the heiress above her and she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Well well, look where you led me, darling. Was this your plan, my lady? Getting me into bed already, hmm?”

Sov rolls her eyes, but a smile still lingers on her lips.  
“Don’t look so smug, you. We’ve shared beds plenty of times.”

“Uh-huh, sure we have. But never _your_ bed.”

Slyly and subtlety, Dae slips her legs around the human’s waist and pulls her in, a notion that Sov does not contest. She leans down above her girlfriend, planting one hand on each side, while purple fingers invade her hair. There is minimal space between their faces now, eyes half-closed and noses on the verge of brushing.  
“What ever am I gonna do with a naughty little rogue like you, huh?”, Sov whispers with a moderately suggestive tone.

“Oh, I don’t know, but I could provide a pile of ideas, if you’re struggling.”  
One of her hands slide towards the buttons on the back, gradually unfastening them, one by one. The looser it becomes, the more Dae begins to tug.  
“This might have to go, though.”

Sov smirks, not for a moment disputing any of her girlfriend’s fondling or frisky endeavors. Eventually, she descends fully onto Dae’s body, knowing that sylvari can take it. She attempts to issue faint taunts in return, nudging their lips together, but never committing.  
“You’re getting too sly for your own good.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?”

Defeat, that’s what awaits Sov. Instead of retorting, she seals their lips together in a proper and fierce kiss, one that fades all notions of a continued conversation. For the next several hours, the room’s stillness is disturbed only by occasional moans and rustling beneath the sheets.


	12. Grenth's grasp

A few more fairly hectic days pass by in manor Vlasic, filled with bustling activity and preparational efforts. Soon, the denizens begin to feel that the day of convening is closing in, for the outwardly parties to amass and approach Broadhollow.  
While the majority of the guild tries to stay out of the way of the servants' and family’s path, they do offer their skills for the occasional task that the humans find appropriate. It is Katla’s strength and Razok’s tinkering proficiency that come to most use, of course.

Simultaneously, Sovica is asked to clothe herself in the attire of the dutiful and sociable heiress. She and her mother expend some time on greeting and processing a few guests, though the main bulk of them will probably be delayed for a few more days. Some of the more crucial and esteemed individuals, especially those with large and sprawling lands, have the tendency to take their sweet time or at the very least arrive fashionably late.

That said, while Sov finally gets a couple of hours recess to meet with Daeynwe, a particular event occurs. By this point, Sov has chosen to dress her girlfriend up in some form of fancy navy blue and white suit that they procured from the Vlasic wardrobes, likely designed for previous denizens. Sov herself is wearing a honey-colored blouse and skirt, with black details, thinking she matches her lover quite well. That’s when they hear and see how Lishan steps inside.

“Yo, sis!”, she calls out in the entrance hall, obviously drawing attention to herself. Sov and Dae notice the Seraph gear adorning her body, but also another individual that Lishan points at.  
“Look who I found meandering about.”

Steering their eyes to the Lieutenant’s left side, they spot an exceedingly beautiful and well-dressed woman. Dark brown skin, brown eyes, full and slightly painted lips and long brown hair that is cut down completely on the left side of her head. She wears a short and open sangria-colored jacket with a high collar, a violet, somewhat corseted and buttoned top with a fairly generous lowered neckline to reveal the top of her chest, a sangria skirt that is open on the front and lengthy wine-colored boots. All of it has golden highlights, staying true to the Vlasic theme. She’s also noticeably shorter than the Seraph, around Sovica’s height, in fact.

This lady arches her brow skeptically at the Lieutenant. As she speaks, her voice is quite graceful, with a smooth tone.  
“Pardon? I was not _meandering_ anywhere. I had a goal in mind, I’ll have you know.”

Lishan smirks back at her.  
“Pfff, unlikely. Admit it, you haven’t been here in a while. You were lost.”

Her companion narrows her eyes, mimics the smirk a little and pokes an admonishing hand into Lishan’s heavy armor.  
“If you weren’t my favorite cousin, I might’ve taken offense at such an implication, actually.”

The Lieutenant snorts.  
“Favorite, huh? Yeah, right.” She playfully bumps her hip into the other lady, before readdressing Sov.  
“Sparrow, you’ll look after her, right? You too, Dae. I gotta bounce.”

At this stage, Sov and Dae have commenced their approach and the heiress blinks confusedly.  
“Wait, already? But you just got here.”

“Yeah, I know. Still got a couple of hours left on my shift, actually. Have to deal with the larger influx of guests on Cap’s orders, but thought I’d have a chat with our best necro while she was here. Anyway, I’m off.”

Just prior to leaving, she does receive a quick kiss on the cheek from her companion. After that, the new arrival and one of the earliest guests, turns all her focus towards one of her hosts and narrows the distance. She spreads her arms and hugs Sov comfortably.  
“Oh, cousin, it’s so good to see you again! It’s been far too long. Wasn’t sure you’d ever come back.”

A little bit dramatic, perhaps, but Sov disregards it for now and reciprocates the emotions instead.  
“You too, dear.”

Giving each other some space, though still staying in proximity, this woman surveys her cousin carefully, looking delighted as she gingerly brushes her fingers over Sov’s curls.  
“Aww, you’ve gone back to your old style. I adore that. It has always looked so fabulous on you.”

Sov chuckles and shrugs casually.  
“Thank you. I did miss it. Feels right, now that I’m back home.”  
As she has the chance, the elementalist also reviews the style on the other side with avid interest.  
“And your own choice is certainly…bold. You always did enjoy being unique, I guess.”

Their guest flashes a brilliant smile, seeming proud as she brushes her fingers over the buzzed skin.  
“Oh, I simply wanted a new look. Compared to you, my dear, I actually need to stand out a little in the Reach.”

The heiress scratches her own cheek skeptically.  
“Hmm. I’m not sure ‘need’ is the appropriate term, but…”

“Sovica, sweetheart, in the circles I frequent, one must constantly be at the top of one’s game. And my tier is in a league of its own.”

It’s not just Sov, but Dae who also get to witness exactly how self-confident this lady is, at least at face value.  
“What, the necromancer club?”, Sov inquiries sarcastically.

Her cousin’s smile sharpens a little, into a wry smirk.  
“Yes, didn’t you know? Fashion is our foremost metric with which to judge our devotion to Grenth. And I’m his favorite”, she says jokingly and winks.

At least it makes Sov laugh.  
“You’re ridiculous.”

“And lovable, I know.” While this conversation is fun for her, the necromancer’s interest is soon diverted to the sylvari that stands behind Sov. The brown gaze keenly inspects Dae, as her arms fold.  
“Mm. Sovica, I believe you need to introduce me to this little morsel of yours.”

“Pocket that charm, please. She’s with me.”

“What? I’m just stating facts.”

Sov rolls her eyes and then takes the sylvari’s arm, gently pulling Dae to her side.  
“This here is Daeynwe, a woman I met in Lion’s Arch and with whom I’ve been together for almost a year now, I believe.  
Dae, I’m…cautiously pleased to introduce my cousin, Derija Vlasic. She’s a studious necromancer, noblewoman and member of Grenth’s Grasp Society, a community for his faithful.”

Derija offers an enthusiastic smile and shakes Dae’s hand.  
“Charmed. And we are more than simply a community. We are also artists and custodians of his lore and artifacts.”

“Oh, that sounds cool!”, Dae replies. “Uh, I mean, it’s an honor to meet you, lady Derija.  
Wait, is that right? Am I supposed to-…” She glances at Sov. “Should I kiss her hand?”

Sov aims a rather confused stare at her girlfriend.  
“…what? No, that won’t be-“

“Actually”, Derija interrupts amusedly, “please do. It’s how I prefer to be greeted.”  
The heiress rolls her eyes as Dae acquiesces to the request, much to the necromancer’s delight.  
“Sweet Daeynwe, you handle yourself with decorum. Sovica did absolutely right by courting you.”

“Well, it was more like the opposite”, Dae confesses. “She was very cute and…well, I like cute women.”

Sov snickers and now that Dae is mostly free, she wraps her fingers around one hand.  
“I think there was a little bit more complexity than that.”

“Regardless, I’m pleased to see the two of you together”, Derija reveals. “Can’t wait to behold the faces of the other Houses. There will presumably be a lot of surprise and skepticism.”

An angle that had not escaped Sov, who falters somewhat.  
“Yeah, we’ve already discussed that topic. Mother is very worried about the ramifications.”

“Bah, don’t listen to her. I think it’s splendid. This is exactly what the old dusty Krytan nobility needs, to shake things up a bit. This nations should not be for humans alone.”

“Heh, well, I’m glad you’re on our side, even if it’s out of spite.”

While the two ladies stand and chat, Dae glances between them with intrigued eyes. Once she notes a gap, she feels as if there’s no real point to masking her initial reaction.  
“Hmm. Is it a human gene thing that all Vlasic women are beautiful, or is this specifically tied to the ones I’ve met so far?”

They had not anticipated this remark, making both of them giggle.  
“She is adorable”, Derija admits.

Sov shakes her head, both from amusement and disbelief.  
“I know. So much that it’s painful sometimes.  
Oh, I forgot tell you – Daeynwe is actually a sister of sorts to Magister Veilidh of the Durmand Priory.”

A new streak of appeal glimmers through Derija’s eyes, as she sizes Dae up once more.  
“Really now?”

“Yup!”, blurts Dae. “She helped me from my birthing pod and became my mentor. We’ve hung out ever since!”

“Hmm. Fascinating. You’ll have to tell me the details of that story sometime.”

The elementalist clears her throat.  
“I…hear that you’ve met her once.”

“Who, Magister Veilidh?”

“Yes. Unless I’m mistaken.”

Derija considers this question for a moment, her eyes taking on a distant trait, but not out of severe introspection or apprehension. Instead, there’s a gleeful quality to her gaze and she even snickers somewhat in a mildly smug manner.  
“Oh, you’re not. We’ve certainly…encountered one another.” Her focus shifts to the sylvari. “And if she’s anything to go by, you’ve found yourself a most competent kisser. I should know.”

Dae is briefly rendered speechless, not sure what to comment regarding people making out with her sister, while Sov figures it’s best to press on.  
“Anyway, where’s your parents? Shouldn’t they have joined you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. Sadly, I must relay that they won’t be coming. There is some form of ongoing administrative dispute, with merchants in Queensdale, that they had to attend to. Told me to leave without them.  
But, come now, I don’t want to think about such dismal elements while I’m here.” She leans towards Sov and hooks her arms around her cousin’s. “Instead, I wish to hear all the intricacies of your journey. I’ve caught a whole series of varying rumors, but very few specifics. And I want to meet your guild! If they’re here, of course.”

“Oh, they are. Come, let’s see if we can’t locate them.”

As she gradually spins around, with one arm to each woman, Sov continues into the house, guiding them both through the mansion and towards the most plausible corner where their guildmates might currently be holed up in.  
On the way there, however, before they actually manage to reach the correct halls, an incident transpires which none of them had foreseen; though it’s not anywhere near catastrophic, just…unexpected.

Derija wanders closest to the right wall at this time, and the trio is just about to cut right in the coming crossroad, but before getting this far, another person exits the same passage. Not being prepared for such an abrupt manifestation, Derija accidently collides directly with the huge frame of the currently largest person by far in this house – Katla. She’s like walking straight into a brick wall, perhaps a tad softer.

The necromancer herself had been watching her cousin, posing a few extra queries as a proactive measure for their encounter, so she had not seen anything coming. She stumbles slightly, almost losing her foothold, but does not fall – instead, her hand is captured with impeccable reflexes by the larger and thicker fingers of the norn, who pulls her back up.  
“Watch out”, Katla states evenly.

Being initially startled by the clash, Derija has to blink in bewilderment and adjust her stance, but manages to compose herself rather aptly. She notes the pale hand around her own, prompting her to look up. At that second, Katla has already retracted hers.  
Derija is far from the tallest of humans, no more than average at best, so facing upwards is not unusual, but this is almost farcical. Her brown eyes rise at least a meter, to the norn’s deep grey ones that look back at her. Not only is she huge, practically at the size that she nearly has to bow her head in order to avoid bumping into the roof, but her appearance is not at all what the necromancer had expected to see. Pale skin, long thick black locks, a muscular build that can challenge any guards she’s ever met and to top it all off, a fairly gruesome scar adorning half the face. Katla’s expression is remarkably unfazed.

“Derija!”, Sov exclaims. “Are you okay?” She caresses her cousin’s arm.

After having resumed her previous serenity, Derija doesn’t seem even remotely deterred by what just struck her, but instead decides to proceed with her investigation.  
“And who might you be?”

“Uh, Katla”, the Guardian reveals tersely. As per usual.  
It’s quiet for a second, until she realizes what sort of courteous response might be expected.  
“Sorry.”

Sov remembers how inadequate the norn can be in social situations and acknowledges that she must assume command.  
“She’s not very…talkative. This is Katla Svalen, one of our guild members. They’re living with us for the time being.”

Derija’s face is temporarily pensive and indiscernible, with Katla merely staring back at her, though in a more deadpan manner.  
“From Blood Bond, you say?”

“Yes. She may not entirely look the part, but she’s our fiercest fighter and Guardian.”

“I see. It is most intriguing and…exquisite company you keep these days, dear cousin.”  
She tilts her head sideways and addresses Katla directly.  
“You know, miss Svalen, where I come from, it is customary to perform the proper rites and formalities prior to taking a lady’s hand.”

Katla blinks perplexedly.  
“…what does that mean?”

But Derija does not answer. She merely smirks, rounds Katla’s position and continues strolling into the house, swaying her hips all the while. Katla’s eyes follow her, nonplussed.  
Sov shuts her own and pinches the bridge of her nose.  
“Dwayna’s mercy, I…don’t know. Derija can be very peculiar. And eager to tease. Don’t mind it too much, Katla.”

“Hmm. Your family is strange.”


	13. Heated ice

It’s peculiar to Derija how there can exist some locations in this world which can feel like home and yet a stranger’s abode, both at once. The Broadhollow manor is the original lair of the Vlasic family, outside of the Ascalonian town, where they first settled down and built the foundations for what they would one day become. She would categorize this as one such site.

She has been here before, spent many days and nights within the confines of its centuries-old corridors. Those who have permanent quarters here are her family, with her father being the brother of the Baroness herself and Derija has always loved and respected her cousins. And yet, this place isn’t home, not truly. The sole reason why she’d even entertain the notion of viewing it as such, is due to the innate desire to protect it against the threats outside, the ancient rivalries.

Late evening has extended across the fields of Gendarran on this second day of the necromancer’s visit. She has obviously been granted a set of cozy private lodgings in a guest room, one she has slept in before. Zodwa knew she would arrive and made sure to reserve it specifically for her favorite niece. Derija cherishes that hospitality and avid fondness which she’s provided, but she still cannot avoid the restlessness which overtakes her tonight.

Derija does not have to shoulder as many cumbersome burdens or responsibilities as the rest of the house, for she is merely a guest, but that does not exclude the fact that she has her own errands to complete. There is a predicament entangled in this avenue, however, specifically tied to the execution. It has to be solved in a prudent and discreet fashion. It is the process to assess her options which makes her roam and ponder.

The Vlasic estate in this region constantly has a few guards stationed in various corners of its radius, with one or two occasionally traversing the interior to perform quick sweeps, but none of them ever find a reason to bother Derija, even while she’s on a late stroll. She’s a known entity and is perceived as another member of the family. If she prefers to wind down with a nightly jaunt, they will not hinder her.

One who does happen to obstruct her passage through the house, albeit unintentionally, is a much larger and heavier individual, one whose steps can be felt lumbering over the floor towards a similar goal. Thankfully, Derija actually notes the taller woman this time around, prior to any collision and throws her arms up while reversing.  
“Whoa there! Phew, a close call.  
Now I have to admit, you are exceptionally fast for someone so big.”

Katla decelerates as she notes the human and makes sure the position of her shirt is adequate. While Derija is in mostly the same outfit – except for a set of pants instead of the skirt – Katla has come into possession of a new set of navy blue clothes, including a long tunic, robust pants, reasonably cozy socks and flat shoes.  
“Long legs, I guess.”

Being amused by the almost dismissive simplicity, Derija snorts and crosses her arms under her chest.  
“A fair point. If you will indulge my mischievous frame of mind, you resemble a giant unstoppable boulder, rolling within a tight cave tunnel, crushing everything in your path.”

It’s unclear whether it was meant as humor or even a bid at trying to make Katla laugh, but regardless, Katla doesn’t really have much in way of a response, other than to shrug.  
“I’ll try to slow down.”

“Oh, you do as you please, of course. Just keep us pebbles in mind, will you?”

“Sure.”

Terse as always. She had noticed this laconic color in the norn during their official introductions earlier, but it truly is all-pervasive.  
“You’re up late, I see. Having trouble sleeping?”

Katla lets silence linger for a second or two, prior to stroking some of her long black hair away from her face.  
“Yeah, basically.”

“Ah, a relatable situation, at least for me. I am often similarly uneasy at events such as these. There have been many sleepless nights for me in this fine estate.  
Oh, and now that I have you close at hand, it might be worth to mention – I had a great deal of fun chatting with your guild yesterday. I very much enjoyed getting acquainted with everyone. Your sister, the charming Rea, has a lovely personality. Beautiful laughter too. It makes sense why you would enjoy spending so much of your time with her.”

Once more, the norn raises her shoulders.  
“I guess.”

“Although, I must say, a polar bear as a pet is a relatively odd choice. Not necessarily wrong, mind you, but unconventional, at least in human societies. They do seem to get along, which is satisfying, I suppose.”

No comment from Katla yet again. Conversing with her can be seriously…aggravating. Derija received the same vibes during the introductions. Seeing as how they don’t have much else to discuss, Katla offers a brief wave, before she attempts to leave.  
“Okay. See ya.”

Unfortunately, she underestimates Derija’s curiosity.  
“Wait just a moment. Where exactly do you think you’re going? Are you merely conducting a postponed self-guided tour, or do you have something more explicit in mind? If not, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Katla does halt her steps, though she hesitates too, conflicted whether she actually would be able to facilitate the necromancer’s request. She had walked past Derija, but now gradually turns back around.  
“I’m…looking for a secluded spot.”

“Oh? For what purpose?”

“I…mean to meditate”, she relinquishes reluctantly. “Clear my thoughts.” She pauses, mulling over a more specific definition. She eventually digs out a feasible excuse.  
“Guardian stuff”, she says a bit awkwardly.

Sadly, if she had intended for this to deter Derija, it fails. The concept has the opposite effect. The necromancer runs her fingers thoughtfully under her chin.  
“Is that a fact? You know, I haven’t ever observed a Guardian ritual, but I am very intrigued by the intricacies involved. Would there be room for an audience of one, perchance? This sounds like an opportunity I would find most educational. I very much enjoy broadening my knowledge and intellectual limits.”

Katla studies the human with inquisitive eyes and an arched brow, almost a little entertained.  
“I thought I had to perform some rites.”

“What?”

“To be near you. It’s what you said.”

Derija confusedly scratches the bottom of her neck as she attempts to parse the idea, until she finally recalls their initial encounter. She chuckles and rolls her eyes.  
“Oh please. It was meant only if you seek to take my hand! Is that your intent, hmm?”

“I already took it.”

A slightly slyer wave comes over her, as she takes several playful steps into Katla’s vicinity, each one giving her body a little sway.  
“Hardly. At best, you held it and not for any significant amount of time either. You will have to do better, should you wish to excite me.”

“Pass.”

Because of the witty friction and the amusement she gains from staying near this woman, Derija feels as if she has to strive for a prolonged interaction.  
“Well, then we should have no contentions. I might actually know a suitable room for your venture. Come with me.”

It takes a couple of seconds but, somewhat tentatively, Katla decides to follow her. Together, they casually cruise through the house’s serene and deserted hallways, up till they come to a stop outside a shut but unlocked door. It is reasonably remote in terms of distance from any sleeping quarters, in a corner, though that was not a concern Katla was fretting over anyhow, as she won’t be very noisy. Inside, she can discern a decently open space, a soft carpet and a couple of comfy chairs.

Derija enters first and plays the gracious host.  
“Will this suffice, dear lady Svalen?”

Katla ignores the mental prodding and ducks her head beneath the doorframe, before she slips inside and examines the span of the floor.  
“Think it will.” She throws a cursory glance towards Derija. “As long as you don’t get in my way.”

The human smirks and sets a hand on her chest.  
“Who, me? I would never! I shall be perfectly courteous and give you all the space you need, my lady.”

“You’re the lady, not me.”

“I beg to differ. Your poise is most elegant and enviable.”

While she doesn’t appear to derive any joy from the smug necromancer’s demeanor, Katla doesn’t oppose her either. Instead, she drifts into the middle, as Derija directs herself towards one of the chairs. Along the road, the human removes her jacket and corrects her top a little, ensuring all her…equipment remains comfortable, but also visible. Teasing others in this fashion is nearly a sport for her, but Katla is becoming an especially tasty target.

As she leans back, however, she soon realizes that Katla is inadvertently putting on a show too, as she begins to discard segments of her clothes. The shoes, socks and the outer shirt are dropped in a pile on the floor, leaving only a sleeveless top underneath and the leggings. What becomes the epicenter for Derija’s gaze are the huge and thick arms that Katla exposes, making her emit a soft gasp and a slight, “ooh”.  
This sound does draw Katla’s attention, who stares suspiciously at the human. Derija simply curls her lips, folds her legs and playfully dangles one foot back and forth.

“Go on.”

After a short shake of her head, the norn proceeds with her preparations. Derija is definitely impressed that Katla exhibits very few traces of anger or exasperation. She’s either skilled at masking it or exceedingly patient.  
Meanwhile, Derija denotes a particular element.

“You know, I hadn’t articulated this observation earlier, but your facial scar, it really is…prominent.”

Katla shrugs nonchalantly.  
“So they say.”

“And fairly gruesome, I must admit.”

“Blame the icebrood.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that it’s ugly. I quite like it, in fact. Scars can be very enticing.”

Katla does not offer a reply, having nothing of value to vocalize at this very moment. Instead, she chooses to focus on the steps of this procedure. She lowers herself to the floor and crosses her legs. Sitting on the carpet, she commences a channeling of magic, targeting the tips of her fingers. With faded lights residing on her skin, she draws a circular rune on the floor of - to Derija - unknown connotations and then adds another onto the center of her chest. Both of them last for no more than a few seconds and then vanish, being embedded in her body.

Derija’s somber nature gains precedence at the same pace as Katla’s, and she bears witness to the norn trying to summon her concentration, delving into the core of her spirit. Sadly, despite the potency of the process, she doesn’t quite obtain the results she desires. This venture was pursued predominantly due to Katla’s hope to center herself, gain some peace and quiet, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t occur.

Images from the past trespass upon her mental faculties, followed by pained voices in their wake and pleas that she does not wish to heed.  
_“Go, take her! We will hold them back! Get across the ridge and run until the sun rises!”_  
They cloud her mind and she clenches her fists. Her muscles strain as her frustration intensifies. She should have been there. She could have done more.  
_“Always remember – do not lose your focus, that discipline ingrained in your body. If you let it break, even just a crack, it will shatter you completely. Not instantly, of course, but bit by bit, until there is nothing left but the fire. Maintain that focus, Katla. When I am gone, it is all you have.”_

The Guardian is not alone with noting the imperfections in her introspective undertaking, for Derija is now growing somewhat alarmed as well.  
“Katla, are you alright? You seem…tense.”

Either Katla didn’t hear it, or she decides to ignore the human, for there are no words in return. Perhaps Derija will have to enact a more hands-on approach.  
Suddenly, Katla detects how the necromancer’s proximity becomes far more palpable, as she kneels next to the norn. Katla doesn’t protest this angle, until she feels how Derija puts two fingers on her forearm. The eyes fly open and virtually glare at the other woman.  
“What in Bear’s name are you doing?”

Even while seated, Katla is huge, practically towering over any human, especially Derija. But no fear enters the shorter woman’s expression. Her now solemn brown eyes steer into the pained grey ones and she utters words in a more lenient tone.  
“There is pressure all over your body, too much of it.”

“What-“

“I may have a remedy. Close your eyes, continue what you’re doing.”

Katla exhales sharply from her nose.  
“I can’t, not with you-“

“Please, do as I say”, she states somewhat more firmly. “Just trust me.”

Even though she senses nothing but the thriving apprehension in herself, with a heavy sigh, Katla obliges. She doubts it will work, but this woman is too insistent to listen without proof.  
To her astonishment, she actually feels how a calm comes over her. She distinguishes an increasing internal chill filling her, but not one that she would describe as overbearing. It eases some of her roiling emotions, providing her with the momentum she requires to prevail. Within seconds, she gathers the tranquility she was previously tracking and presses on with her meditation. This enables her to cleanse her thoughts and regain a sense of composure.

After a minute or two has passed, she reopens her eyes and spots how Derija retracts her hand, with residues of unidentified magic evaporating from her fingers. She blows on them, like the smoke from the barrel of a gun.  
For some inexplicable reason, Katla feels…safe in her presence, which she hadn’t anticipated. Few have ever managed to instill her with such a sentiment.  
“Thanks”, she says, as heartfelt as she can muster.

Derija displays a much more subdued and fonder smile.  
“You are most welcome, miss Svalen.”


	14. Whims of the clouds

The day of reckoning has arrived, in a manner of speaking. The launch date, the heralded dawn, the time of beginnings. In common terms, this merely indicates that the most important guests in the convergence has finally deigned to set foot inside Broadhollow and Vlasic territory.  
In an unforeseen turn of events, a large number of them have been revealed to drop by at nearly the exact same time, rather than a day or two apart, which tends to be the custom. There is an iffy smell in the air and it’s uncertain whether this was a concerted effort or a simple coincidence.

Whatever the case, Zodwa was kept apprised by Seraph scouts dispatched from Lishan and when the word was delivered, she alerted her older daughter and husband of the occasion, letting them both join her in the event of greeting everyone at the gates.  
The three are concurrently traversing the hallways of the manor towards the entrance and discusses what personalities they must expect. Or rather, Zodwa lists the concerns one by one for the other two, while they have no other options than to listen patiently.

“Minister Arton is a dedicated man, adheres to a certain code of honor, which also includes formality. Remember to greet him in the proper fashion, dear.  
Minister Duran shouldn’t be too complicated to appease, seeing as how he has been relatively positive about the peace summit with the charr. We won’t specifically attempt to manipulate him, but keep the card in your pocket as a way to prod his favor.  
And then there’s Minister Estelle, of course.” She stops to exhale in a weary fashion. “Not sure where to begin with her. She’s a…fickle woman. Her interests and operations seem to be all over the area, fliting back and forth. I can’t discern whether it’s due to indecisiveness or because of her allies trying to buy her off, but nevertheless, I urge mindfulness and discretion when dealing with her.”

Neither of them have so far chosen to voice it, but technically, none of this is fresh information for Sovica or Kylian. Perhaps they’re not as much in the know regarding the Ministry at large as Zodwa, but they can’t be described as oblivious either. Eventually, Sov senses that she simply has to at least say something.  
“Mother…”

But Zodwa isn’t done just yet.  
“It won’t be particularly surprising to you, but the one who worries me the most is Legate Minister Caudecus, who you both have to be extra careful in front of. He always has some political trick up his sleeve. I’m still unconvinced that he didn’t swindle his way up the ladder to begin with, but evidence to this conclusion is nearly impossible to come by.”

“Yes, we’re aware. You mentioned it during the spring festival feast last year.”

“Did I? Hmm.” Any second guessing she might have steered in her daughter’s direction is impeded, for a separate concern crops up. She halts and turns to review Sov’s look. “Wait, dear, let me get another glance at your outfit.”

Sov follows suit and curbs her pace.  
“What? Mother, we’ve already-“

Zodwa does not wait for her daughter’s permission in this endeavor, as she begins her fiddling after resting the cane against her leg, straightening some of the uneven surfaces of the shirt, tightening some of the knots, double checks all the buttons and ensures that the lavender blouse Sov wears is appropriately aligned. She adjusts the angle of the Vlasic pin attached to the upper sections and confirms the energetic nature of the hair.

“You didn’t apply any additional creams today, did you? Overuse may undermine the silkier texture.”

“You know I didn’t. I only utilize the oils. I’m no stranger to haircare, mother.”

“No? I can still remember all those days of groaning and complaining, while I was trying to get you invested in healthier usage of cosmetic products. You fumbled quite a few times, if memory serves. And who had to help amend the situation?”

A predictable argument, one Sov has faced several times during her comparatively short life. What is it with parents and an incessant need to remind their children of all the lapses in judgment they’ve stumbled into? Sov has to really strive in order to suppress a desire to roll her eyes.  
“You’re talking about stuff that happened years ago, mother. Decades. I was a literal baby.”

“Now you’re exaggerating. You were sixteen.”

“Same thing!  
Look, my point is that everything is fine and you’re being too fussy. And it’s not the first time.”

Being discontent with this assessment, Zodwa frowns and straightens the position of her cane, to support her once more.  
“I’m not. Prudent etiquette and presentability are both vital aspects in these circles, Sovica. Remember what type of people we’re forced to contend with here. They will be scouring and ransacking everything we display, to search for any semblance of weakness or manipulatable quirks. The only way to circumvent it is to enlist a guise of perfection.”

Sov folds her arms and averts her gaze.  
“But we can’t all be perfect, mother. Don’t you see?”

“As I’m more than aware of, but I’m doing this for you, Sovica. You have to be mentally and physically prepared for the trials ahead, as you will one day take my place. In order to be successful, you must consider the smallest detail and do the math, to gauge what can be polished and what can be endured. That is essentially what this game is all about – social gains and losses.”

Before their little dispute grows to a spat, Kylian decides to interfere, as he lays his hands gently over his wife’s shoulders.  
“Love, I think Sovica has a point. Bending over backwards to achieve the impossible is not only constraining, but taxing. Perhaps we have to acknowledge that you are…overemphasizing the issue somewhat. I suggest you try to relax, don’t fret so much over ever tiny bit of the meeting. Seems more likely to me that we’ll commit mistakes the harder we struggle to subvert them.”

While her daughter struggles to achieve a more mellow tone, it seems her husband’s approach has the necessary effect. Zodwa sighs, her shoulders drooping in defeat.  
“I…perhaps you’re right. I just wish to prevent any catastrophes. This day is so important.”

“And we are just as cognizant of this as you. We will do everything within the limits of our capabilities to charm everyone with aplomb.”

He actually manages to produce a chuckle in Zodwa, who faces her beloved and pulls him into an appreciative kiss, just prior to resting against his chest. One hand lingers on his chin, absentmindedly brushing her fingers through his beard.  
“What would I do without you?”, she whispers.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head to press his lips against her forehead.  
“Presumably stress some poor fool out. Luckily, my endurance is legendary.”

Zodwa shakes her head, but this humor is admittedly one of the many reasons the two of them blend so well and remain in sync. As she surveys his appearance as well, she lets her grasp stroke down across his frame.  
“You look amazing, darling. Handsome as ever.”

“And you shimmer with the grace of Dwayna.”

Her lips curve into a light smirk.  
“Tsk. Don’t overdo the charm now.”

“Hah, sorry. Guess I can’t suppress my adoration that easily.”

Once more, their lips are intertwined, affectionately and devotedly. It encourages a smile onto Sov, glad to see her parents get along. This bond is unexpectedly inspirational.  
The earliest guests have already been processed and allocated into acceptable accommodations – some in the house, others within the town. Those few who access the region’s generosity today, however, are all of high esteem and will be granted chambers inside the manor as befitting their prestigious placements in the human political hierarchy. Zodwa is fully set on greeting each and every one, but she has to be exceedingly sharp with a few specific personages.

The first of these happens to be Minister Wi, his wife, as well as his daughter, Valette. Wi himself is a fairly old and grey-haired man of Canthan descent, having a few years on Zodwa, while his lady wife is somewhat younger, though her hair has reached the same aged state. Their beloved girl is from a similar generation as Sov and chances are high that they’ll one day journey into the halls of the Ministry simultaneously.

Fortunately, the Vlasics have good ties with the Wi family and they get along well. The minister’s calm and studious disposition is one motive, but it also can’t be ignored that they have no land or territorial disputes beyond that. The pleasant relationship between them is reflected in their exchange of greetings, via both handshakes and hugs.  
So why then is it viewed as a potential dilemma in Zodwa’s eyes? Well, though she may appreciate having an ally among the abundance of predators, she is also conscious of the repercussions that may arise from relying too heavily on anyone beyond your immediate family. No vulnerabilities can be abided.

“It’s a delight to be here once more, Lady Zodwa”, says Lord Wi. “These conferences are unfailingly both invigorating and enlightening all at once.”

Zodwa laughs politely.  
“I’m glad one of us bears that opinion. For others, it can be very exhausting, with all the preparations at hand. But we’re very glad and honored to have you back in our estate, Lord Wi. You should all feel welcome upon our grounds here in Broadhollow. The debates will probably not open until tomorrow, in the garden pavilion.”

Next to the older minister, Lady Wi smiles sociably and hooks an arm with her husband.  
“We met your youngest daughter out by the gate earlier. Last I recall seeing her, she was but a child, but I see that she has grown into a brilliant young woman, and a most accommodating one at that. The good Lieutenant was most gregarious, and a terrific example of what Seraph should aspire to be.”

Kylian nods in an assenting manner.  
“Lishan has dreamt of the day she could take a position like this since she was a little girl. Naturally, her end goal is to one day adorn the title of Captain for this entire region.”

“Well, we shan’t stay in your way for much longer”, says Lord Wi, “but I simply must insist that you come to one of our galas in Divinity’s Reach at some point soon. Valette will be performing in the next concert.”

“An excellent idea”, Zodwa concurs. “I’ve always enjoyed your skill with the violin, Valette.”

The youngest Wi bows her head amiably.  
“Thank you. Your praise means a lot, my lady.”  
Her eyes are also drawn to her fellow noble daughter, with a slightly more mischievous tone.  
“I do hope we’ll get a chance to speak later, Sovica. I’ve taken some history classes recently and…well, I could use some assistance. I hear you’re an expert.”

Sov can’t stifle a light giggle.  
“And needless to say, I would love to. Come by my room later and we can discuss the details.”

With the initial pleasantries concluded and the Wi family disappearing inside the house, another two smaller guests are greeted, which ends up being nothing more than the starter course, before the main dish makes his entrance. His entry is even announced by a herald stationed at the manor gateway.  
“Legate Minister Lord Caudecus Beetlestone the Wise.”

While the rank itself may not control the rest of the ministers, Legate Minister is still a respectable and valuable seat, involving tasks such as moderating almost all Ministry sessions, being responsible for the Ministry Guard and take on the role as liaison between the Ministry and the Queen.  
Zodwa’s opinion has always stated that Caudecus can be…difficult on the best of days and right now, his expression can most adequately be defined as ‘stern’, perhaps with a smidgen of irritable tension, though it’s hard to determine why.

He does walk all the way up towards the family, of course, and greets his main host directly with a handshake, but does not pay as much heed to the other two at all. The message is blatant – he deals with people of power first and foremost.  
“Legate Minister, welcome back to Broadhollow. It’s a joy to have you here”, Zodwa cordially declares, though it’s bereft of any zest. “I take it your trip went well.”

“Yes, I am…content to have made the journey”, Caudecus concedes. Is that reluctance or just his usual ‘sunny’ tone? “My arrival was slower than I would’ve liked. Your roads are not as unobstructed as one might’ve hoped or even expected.”

Zodwa has to really struggle in order to rein in the overwhelming desire to scowl. She can’t discern whether his words denote criticism or not.  
“An unfortunate situation, I know. The centaurs are endlessly persistent and have been making numerous attempts at new advances upon our lands.  
But of course, this is just one out of a plethora of issues which I wish to address in the upcoming conference.“

Right away, a skeptical frown appears on the Legate Minister’s brow.  
“We shall have to wait and see as to what can be done. There are many topics which must be discussed, some more imperative than mere regional grievances. Though, going out of turn is obviously inconceivable. Protocol is essential.”  
He tucks his arms behind his back.  
“Perhaps Captain Xinyi should be more efficient with her detachments. I can have a word with Ministry Guard Commander Serentine, if it’s urgent. She could dispatch some wisdom or additional troops.”

Some may deem this remark as ill-considered and judging by Zodwa’s straightening back and hardening demeanor, Sov and Kylian suspects that they’re in for a small treat.  
“A most _gracious_ offer, Legate Minister”, she accentuates acutely, “but I assure you, our Seraph have matters under full and adept control. They have been staunch protectors of this domain for many an era, when no others have dared or cared to, and we will not dismiss them out of hand. I shall keep you abreast, should circumstances change.”

There are cues of further strain on the Legate Minister, like he’s equipping some kind of battle mode, but seemingly forsakes such ideas shortly after.  
“Very well. I suppose I wish to take my quarters now then, if there was nothing else.”

As he departs, Zodwa breathes out, with Sov taking her hand and entwining their fingers. The elementalist aims a slight glare over her shoulder.  
“I don’t like him. Never have, never will.”

“He can be…complicated and ceaselessly guarded”, Zodwa confesses. “Then again, that’s why he’s the Legate Minister, for better or worse.”

“Not sure I agree. Feels like a significant and meaningful seat like his should hold someone more benevolent.”

With the most contentious guest out of the way, the nerves among everyone involved wind down somewhat, as they know that it cannot possibly get any more hectic. However, while this carries some truth, the next person in line is by far the most curious and unexpected of all, though not one that they’d count as unwanted. It is a red or auburn-haired and light-skinned woman, who probably is younger on the surface than in years. She is striking, some could say even dazzling. Sov finds her particularly attractive.

Zodwa tilts her head in bemused amusement as this lady strides over with certain but patient steps, followed by two escorts.  
“Countess Anise.”

The Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade gestures with one hand and bows elegantly.  
“Minister Zodwa Vlasic, it is a singular honor to be in your presence and visiting your fertile lands once more. I pray my appearance does not cause you any distress.”

“Oh, not at all, but we hadn’t anticipated your attendance. You weren’t on the guest list.”

“Ah, indeed. There was an unfortunate change of schedules. You see, Baroness Varemaugn will not be coming, due to an abrupt bout of illness. I shall be taking her place, as the Queen’s representative.”

A contemplative aura comes over Zodwa, but not laced with trouble.  
“Well, you may not be a member of the Ministry, but I won’t oppose your participation in this regard. Naturally, I can’t speak for the other guests.”

“Oh, do not worry your precious mind of such things, my affable minister. I will contend with them on my own.”  
Shortly thereafter, Anise steps up to Kylian and shakes hands with him.  
“Lord Kylian, you seem to be your typical resplendent self.”

The husband showcases a kind smile.  
“And you as well, Countess.”

“I would love to have you as our visitor in the capital someday in the coming months. There are many who wish to hear from you regarding the latest opera. I could acquire tickets for both you and your wife to a future show.”

“That sounds wonderful! I would adore such a chance, my lady.”

“Then it’s settled. I will dispatch a courier upon my return.” After applying her charms on him, she moves on to the daughter, with a very content facial expression. She embraces and shares cheek kisses with the younger woman.  
“And sweet Sovica, I am overjoyed that you are safe. News reached us of your little adventure. Some were greatly concerned for your safety.”

Sov giggles somewhat embarrassingly.  
“Ah, apologies, my lady. I didn’t intend to induce any heartaches.”

Zodwa snorts, with only mild disbelief.  
“Yet she is rather talented at making her poor mother swell with trepidation.”

“…unintentionally.”

“But you see”, Anise resumes, “the Queen received reports of your feats as well and I do not mind relaying the fact that she was most impressed of your astute initiative and diplomatic resourcefulness.”

The concept that the leader of the Shining Blade knows such specifics is not unheard of, nor unanticipated, but this is a whole separate topic. Sov’s eyes widen, as she looks astounded.  
“The…the Queen did?”

“Absolutely and she was very intrigued. I believe she wishes to conduct a one-on-one conversation at some point, to confer vis-à-vis your promising future.”

“O-oh! I…that would be a privilege I cannot deny.“

Her response brings a smile to both Anise and Zodwa.  
“I shall convey your consent to the Queen at the first available moment.” She takes a few steps back.  
“Now then, I shall steal no more of your time. My entourage and I will retreat to our quarters.”

“As our illustrious guest, we will endeavor to let you enjoy your time here, Countess”, claims Zodwa, just prior to Anise delving into the house with the other visitors.

With her gone, Sov is still a tad overwhelmed, but she tries to collect her wits enough to address her mother with a few disquieting thoughts.  
“Do you know what this might imply? I mean, she’s…Shining Blade. And those two were…”

Zodwa inclines her head subtly.  
“Quite so, but no, I can’t interpret the significance of this scenario or what it suggests. We must wait and see. Keep your eyes peeled.”


	15. A hand contested

Contentious activity and lively conversations are filling the Vlasic manor at a mounting rate. If it doesn’t stem from the family or their personnel, it’s the guests, both of the house and those from the village that tend to spend their daytime hours within these borders, to stay apprised of all the ongoing gossip and political maneuvering. For Blood Bond, most of these endeavors carry no particularly compelling perspectives. They are not political creatures by nature and so, find enjoyment in other mentally pleasing sources.

For the time being, Daeynwe, Rea and Razok are the only ones seated together in a desolate corner of the mansion, a little away from the main bustling business and yammering which infects a majority of its breadth.  
The guild as a whole has tried to stick close together, but Sovica has the tendency to get distracted by her duties to her family in their condition, while Katla inexplicably roams around untraceably. Rea hasn’t been able to clarify why, but assumes she’s restless. On the flip side, Ovillus seizes every available opportunity to bury his nose in the books of the estate’s library, which there happens to be an ample supply of.

To somehow keep themselves busy and entertained, the ranger pitched the idea of playing a game of cards between the other three, around a polished and steady wooden table – accompanied by her faithful Grawdr, of course. Though he stays aground, for the time being.  
So far, the entire proceedings have been fairly slanted in Rea’s favor, presumably for the fact that her knowledge is somewhat more comprehensive in this distinct pastime. She was the one to put it down as a suggestion, after all.

During the course of this session, Raz has considered to surrender more than a few times, but the two women have unceasingly coaxed him into sticking to it. Dae is, surprisingly enough, especially resolute, refusing to desist until she wins at least once. This proves a trickier challenge than she envisioned.  
This latest round has become unexpectedly drawn out too, as bets continue to flow – albeit with small coin – and neither are relenting. Barring Raz himself, evidently, who realized from the get-go that he wasn’t going to get anywhere remotely worthwhile.

In Dae’s case, the main blowback is her insufficient manipulative, cunning and subtle conduct. She’s as stealthy as a skelk in combat and her clever use of skills is topnotch. When approaching matters of mental deception, however, she does not excel.  
Rea, on the other hand, would say that the sylvari merely relinquishes too many physical cues, that her cardplaying face is unrefined and missing some guile. However, she doesn’t directly disclose such advice. Better to leave Dae guessing and give the norn an edge.

As they begin yet another round, Rea can bear witness to a similar trace, as Dae periodically chews on her lip, taps the table with her forefinger or permits her eyes to dart between the cards and Rea. In contrast, the ranger stays relatively neutral and calm, with a pinch of carefully erected confidence.  
Occasionally, she slips into a routine to keep herself grounded. They have a jug of ale to share and she sips from her mug every now and then, flips her hair or caresses Grawdr – all to thwart Dae’s attempts at piercing her.

“Another card”, Rea states coolly, feigning an undeterred state.

Raz, who’s had to be the one to handle the card distribution, squirms his whiskers, exhales from his nose and chucks it out.  
“Last one now. Time to show ‘em.”

Rea lifts her eyes, pinches her nose and presents a light smirk.  
“Pretense is over, huh? Alright, if you’re ready too, Dae.”

The young rogue narrows her amber eyes and tilts her frame closer to the table. Her gaze and voice brims with anticipation.  
“You know I am. This time, it’s going my way.”

A brief chuckle.  
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

The thin game pieces plummet to the surface and the numbers are revealed. Whether by serendipity or crappy luck, despite Dae’s pretty phenomenal hand, she is still one step behind.  
“Impossible!”, is the sylvari’s initial and incredulous reaction.

As confidently as ever, Rea leans back in her chair and props an arm up on the armrest.  
“Very possible, actually. You just saw it happen.”

With a faint frown on her brow, Dae slams her hands on the table, rising briskly to her feet.  
“That’s it! I refuse to believe this nonsense!  
You cheated! You had to! There’s no way you could’ve nailed this without using a trick or two!”

“Pff. So that’s what it’s come down to now, huh? Such a sore loser that you lower yourself to slander?”

“Oh, come off it. This is jaguarshite! You must’ve added cards…or warped them somehow. I know it!”

Another sigh from Raz, this one wearier than the last.  
“Don’t reckon you’re being a lil’ extreme there, Dae? We’ve all sat here, kept our eyes, ears and noses alerted. Haven’t seen jack shit, personally.”

“Nor would you!”, Rea defends. “I always play fair and square, all hours of the day. Won’t find a more honest woman!”

“As if!”, Dae counters. “More like, as square as those cards you’ve tucked into your sleeves, to tune this whole ordeal in your favor!”

“Tsk. Are you constantly so dramatic or is this show all for me?”

“Screw you!”

Finding the griping progressively duller, Rea shifts away and casually waves her hand.  
“If you weren’t ready for the game, shouldn’t have taken the dive.”

“That…that is not fair, and you know it! I only played because you proposed this farce!  
And you swore this would be a game of luck!”

Rea directs her position towards Grawdr and starts scratching his fur.  
“Well, luck tempered by shrewd tactics and intuition.”

“Cheating, essentially!”

“Would you dub what you do in combat as ‘cheating’?”

“Yes! Obviously! I always tilt the scales. It’s why I win!”

Their spat does not advance beyond this stage, for suddenly, the door flies open, and an extravagantly clad human enters.  
“Sovica!”, Raz excitedly exclaims. “Man, perfect timing. Glad you're here.”

“Weren’t you tied up in a bunch of human gibberish?”, the norn inquiries.

In spite of her fancy attire, neatly applied makeup and next to glistening hair, their elementalist comrade oozes with an explicit fatigue.  
“Likewise, Raz. And yes, I was and still am, Rea. In fact, I don’t have the time for idle chitchat.”  
She hurries up to her girlfriend and grips the sylvari’s hand.  
“Follow me.”

With all heat having trickled out of her, Dae now blinks questioningly, even if she does not resist.  
“Uh, are we going somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“And where’s that?”

“To the lobby.”

“…could you be more specific? Just a tinge?”

Explanations will apparently have to be delayed, based on Sov shaking her head.  
“We’ll get there, but just come. And hold my hand.”

Rea and Raz both are bewildered.  
“Uh, going already?”, the ranger inquires.

“Yes. Like I said, short on time. I’ll elaborate later.”

Neither of them endeavor to get in her way and therefore simply raise their hands in the air.  
Meanwhile, Dae complies.  
“Alrighty then. Lead the way, lily.”

They exit through the door and stride in a somewhat swift pace to whatever destination Sov has in mind. Along the way, the heiress analyzes their stances.  
“Hmm. Perhaps we should take this one step further. Maybe you should hold your arm around my waist.”

Dae’s nonplussed state does not abate, but rather magnifies; though she still accedes to the request.  
“…are we going to make out in public, or what’s this all about?”

“You know, not a terrible idea. Haven’t made up my mind yet.”

As they tread into the familiar sections of the entrance hall, a few details catch their eyes. Aside from Zodwa and Kylian’s presences, there are four more people, all of which are unrecognizable to Dae.  
“Ah, sweetheart”, says Zodwa. “I was on the verge of dispatching a messenger. New guests have arrived recently, and it just so happens to be our cherished neighbors.”

A short, but pleasant laughter erupts from one of the men among the assembled strangers.  
“Cherished? Is that genuine sentiment I hear, Zodwa, or words predicated on that Countess seat you covet so dearly?”

The older woman turns to him with a fused expression of disappointment and skepticism.  
“Dimas, please, would I ever be so churlish?”

“Depends who you consult, I wager.”

As the distance between them shrinks, Dae receives the opportunity to scour the guests. The fact that they’re all humans is far from astonishing, nor are their lavish clothes and sense of style. They are, in all likelihood, nobles, resembling the predominant background of the people currently located in this house.  
What rouses her curious mind is instead the likeness between the two men standing front and center; albeit with a split in age. There’s clear analogies in the sharp jaws, the straight noses and attentive eyes. Both also have medium brown skin and black hair, though the older of the duo stretches a little longer. The younger have grown a small and thin beard.  
She estimates, based on commentary and opinions across Kryta, that these two would be deemed as handsome. And, if Sovica and her family is anything to go by, they’re bound to be father and son.

“Lord Fevarro, it is an honor to have you visiting our lands once more”, Sov tells Dimas with a gracious smile. To Dae, there are some very subtle hints of strain.  
“Daeynwe, dear, this is Baron Dimas Fevarro of Nebo Terrace, one of our esteemed neighbors, as well as his son, Basilio Fevarro, heir-apparent of Nebo Terrace.” She then fixates expressly at her girlfriend.  
“Also known as one of my many suitors.”

Like on cue, Dae’s eyes widen in shock and distress, as she promptly gains insight as to why Sov was so incessant prior to arrival.  
“I see”, states the sylvari and pulls her lover into a mildly possessive hold. The twinkle in the heiress’ eyes outs her enjoyment. “One of those dull slowpokes, huh?”

Basilio clears his throat awkwardly, before straightening his back and shuffling his arms behind it.  
“Well, this was…a few years ago now, lady Sovica”, he argues. His voice is gentle and insecure. “Surely, we’ve moved past such…mishaps? My father and I are only here for the festivities and to mingle.  
But I would definitely like to be introduced to your enchanting friend too.”

In the same instant, Zodwa looks moderately disconcerted, probably knowing that Sov is readying herself for a glib blow.  
“Undoubtedly, but your label is slightly imprecise, my lord. This is Daeynwe, one of my guild companions and the woman who has both captivated and successfully seduced me.”

Dae is marginally taken aback.  
“…wait, did I? I mean uh, yeah, sure did!”

Basilio is naturally caught unawares here, while Dimas is somewhat agitated.  
“You’ve taken a sylvari as a lover? Truly?”, asks the father with an arched eyebrow.

“I would never joke about such things, Baron. Daeynwe is a fabulous and tantalizing woman. I’ve never met anyone like her and love her with all my heart.”

The sylvari’s cheeks take on a shining trait, rendered bashful by such flattery, accompanied by the brazen revelation.  
Dimas, on the other hand, has visible misgivings, though he clearly doesn’t intend to voice them right here and now.  
“I…see. How…quaint of you.”

“Quite peculiar, indeed”, comments Basilio, hoping to be politer. Unfortunately, he stumbles. “A rather…unusual pairing, I believe most would say.”

Immediately, Sov snaps to and snorts.  
“Unusual? Because she’s not human?”

A hesitant pulse runs across the younger lord’s expression.  
“Well…I cannot recall ever meeting anyone who has fraternized with sylvari in this fashion. Uh, not to say it’s abnormal, by any means.”

“Some might imply that it is”, adds Dimas in a flash.

With heightening distaste and a distorted grimace, Sov presses on.  
“If there were fewer shortsighted people in our midst, perhaps our nation wouldn’t be as hard-pressed, or our circles grow so stagnant.”

“That is certainly one angle”, Dimas offers indifferently. “Others could feasibly insinuate that we have turned too far away from our history and heritage, lost grasp of who we are.”

“And who is that exactly, Baron Fevarro?” Sov’s voice is peaking, echoing across the lobby. “The conquerors and butchers of yesteryear? The nations stuck in a perpetual cycle of violence begetting violence over centuries? The worshippers of ritualistically sacrificing monsters? Or perhaps the civilization who would so readily abandon our brethren, because we didn’t share the same flag?”

Becoming progressively more overrun by Sov’s fury, Dimas curtails his allusions.  
“Ah, I…my apologies, lady Sovica. I’m not here to judge or dictate anyone’s selections in life. My son and myself are but humble guests and would never wish to cause any harm to our cordial neighbors and hosts.”

Basilio bows his head.  
“I echo my father’s sentiments. A thousand apologies, my lady.”

As she retrieves some peace of mind from the depths of her heart, Sov calms herself and concedes.  
“Accepted, from both of you. I didn’t mean to claim you’re responsible for our state of affairs in any way, my lords. It can merely get…frustrating.”

“And I sympathize”, the old man acknowledges. “My son, my companions and I shall be resting in one of your guest houses. Hopefully, during the span of our stay, we can salvage the wreck I devised.”

“I won’t refute your venture, Baron.”

And with that, they depart, leaving the Vlasic family to their own devices. Dae is not tardy in these circumstances, nuzzling her lover’s cheek and whispers softly.  
“You alright, lily?”

Grateful for the awareness, Sov digs her fingers through the leafy hair, while tilting her body into Dae’s.  
“I’ll live. What about you? Can’t help but notice he never proffered the same courtesy to you, even though you were the wounded party.”

Whether to create a façade of being undeterred or simply ignoring the Baron’s taunts, Dae snickers in a laidback fashion.  
“Pff, it’s no big deal. Takes more than a grumpy old man to pierce this sylvari!  
At least I get why you were so mist-bent on dragging me all the way over here now.”

“Ah, heh. Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little...carried away, I guess.”

“Oh, no need! Don’t mind at all, love.” Shutting her eyes, her lips soon stray down her lover’s cheek, nibbling at the jawline.  
“In fact, I enjoy letting you flash me in front of old flings. Can do that anytime you want.”

Sov giggles, but detects a flush on her cheeks, as Dae’s hands roam over her waist.  
“I shall bear that in mind. Your mischievous nature did finally come in handy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's a little silly, but during these sections within the Vlasic manor, I tend to listen to DA:I tunes. Specifically the[Orlais theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZbM-SwKxME), the [Val Royeaux theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRWe-igolq4) and ["Exploring the Winter Palace"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpPivELQ7Ko)._   
>  _The tone is a little off, but it helps me get into the mood_


	16. Shadow of a blade

Kryta is an old nation with ancient traditions, some which have only slowly developed in stages for several hundred years, others that may have been intact since the earliest royal administrations, or possibly even the founding of the nation.  
Among these, there are those that have been so deeply embedded, so sophistically cloaked, that they are both acknowledged and unwittingly neglected.

While Blood Bond and the host family remain highly preoccupied with guests, perceivably endless preparations, numerous interconnecting tasks and satisfying all participants, not everyone gets so mislead.  
During the summit’s initial days, Derija expends a significant portion of her efforts on mingling, for sure, but her sights are set upon assembling intel and quantifying the available ambitions at hand.

She makes it look insultingly easy too, for she is an exemplary charmer, a model of flattery, persuasion and enticement. Both men and women are drawn into her orbit. This social expertise has become intertwined with refined skills to scope out and scrutinize traits and telltale signs in people’s behavior and conduct, to extract as much leverage as is viable, for future endeavors. Happens to be conducive to her duties too.

For the moment, Derija can be traced to the gardens of the Vlasic mansion, amidst a colorful menagerie of nobles, with a multitude of houses and notable names pushed into the mix. Although, the primary nationality is still Krytan.  
Despite her crafty efforts, she is not the epicenter of the party per se, for she doesn’t aspire to draw such an abundance of attention into her path – though she certainly could achieve it – but she’s nonetheless the source of attraction in spades.

Her little performance does eventually draw to a close, however, as instigated by the appearance of a house servant. Her aunt has multiple on the payroll and Derija can’t initially judge this one’s capacity, beyond the light skin, modest clothing and short blonde hair. Her bow is equally humble.  
“Excuse me, Lady Derija, I don’t mean to trouble you, but Baroness Zodwa bid me to relay a message. She wishes to converse in private.”

The necromancer cocks a brow ever so slightly.  
“Now?”

“No delays, she insisted.”

The servant, a pale and timid little thing, lifts her face and looks Derija square in the eyes. If the cues hadn’t been adequately aligned earlier, the twinkle which the necromancer glimpses now is impossible not to sift out. A hint she would know anywhere. She plays along, prolonging the charade with a theatrical frown and grazing of her chin.  
“Hmm. Awfully brusque of her to impose so vehemently.”

“I beg your sincerest pardon, my lady. If this is to your inconvenience, I shall relay the ill new-“

With so many wills and interests laden against her, Derija has to make it real – gracious, but not pompous. She sweeps one arm to her back and pulls the other aloft to snap her fingers audibly.  
“Nonsense. Going to such laborious efforts would be unsuitable, for I’m already on my way.”

The servant flashes a kindly and appreciative smile.  
“Excellent! Allow me to escort you, your elegance.”

In concert, they depart approximately side by side, with but a modicum of deferential space in between, as the “servant” does not wish to give the wrong signal and be framed as insolent or stepping out of line.  
They pursue a discrete route to their destination, cutting a swift and practical itinerary, eluding guards and guests alike. None must uncover their plot – not outsiders, nor the family. It would induce guilt in Derija were it not for her acclimation to this lifestyle.

It should go without saying, but the underlying intention of this stroll is not to join Lady Zodwa anywhere. Once they trot out of sight, they expertly conceal themselves within a private chamber; some form of study, containing a desk, some shelves and cupboards. Derija sashays inside, not carelessly, but upholds the relaxed ruse. She corrects her hair and brazenly occupies the table, with her legs crossed.  
“I have to say, you look brilliant in modest. Should don it more often.”

Like shattering glass, the coating of a worker expires, bringing a far more glamorously-clad, painted and mildly vexed Countess Anise to light.  
“Don’t presume you can start grinning in these conditions, simply by virtue of our need to employ subterfuge, Derija. You possess more courtesy than that.”

“Is that so?”

The marginally older woman lets her disgruntled state be known with a deeper frown.  
“You do not wish to test me, young woman.”

Derija lays a hand over her mouth as a snicker leaves her lips.  
“Aww, dear Countess, I would never be so crass as to mock you outright.”

“Hmph. Not deride by definition, but your jests and gibes are not so convoluted as to slip past my awareness. And they never will be.”

“As vigilant as ever.”

Anise shuts her eyes and rubs her nose, struggling to maintain her poise and self-control.  
“Enough of this. In all this gratification you’ve spoiled yourself with, I hope you’ve recalled our purpose for attending.”

“Tsk. Please, you know me better than this.”

“Indeed, which is precisely why I question.”

“No need to fret. My mind is as whetted as it can conceivably be, and I’ve monitored every single step.”

Turning sideways, Anise begins to pace across the floor in a slow and deliberate manner. Derija recognizes the stance, the skepticism in every shift. She’s spent enough time in this woman’s company to read her at an advanced level. Probably more than the Countess would feel comfortable with.  
“You did seem awfully jubilant out there.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. How can I not? You’ve always said I thrive among the gilded swans. They never see me coming.”

Anise crosses her arms over her chest and exhales from her nostrils.  
“Sometimes I wonder if your craving for attention and notoriety is too dense.”

“Hah! You mistake pretext for vanity, Anny. I’m using my phenomenal social mastery and renown to obtain what I want, just like you taught me.”

Anise decelerates and rolls her eyes.  
“You truly are a socialite aficionado, aren’t you?”, she asks, though it lacks any enthusiasm, as it is mostly rhetorical.

“Tsk. Why, is that jealousy I hear? I admit, I also miss you out on the floor with others. The two of us combined would have been positively lethal."

“By saying that, you’ve misconstrued both my intentions and my mood.”

“Honestly?” Derija taps her chin thoughtfully, mostly in jest. “Hmm, that’s so unlike me. I can normally read you as effortlessly as Balthazar’s scribblings.”

Anise deadpans.  
“Hardly.”

Derija snickers, but detects how her playful attitude may not correspond with Anise’s disapproval on the appropriate wavelength. She tilts her head inquisitively.  
“Is it Caudecus? Has our dear ever-displeased Legate Minister gotten on your nerves again?”

“Let’s move on.  
Report on your current status. Has your cavorting actually culminated in any key discoveries? What have you found regarding our stated goal?”

Rather promptly, Derija falters as her glistening conviction seeps out of her.  
“That is…contingent on our standard of measurement. I’ve uncovered a lot of interesting political and judicial intricacies.”

“But naught concerning our main subject? Relevant to our search for the White Mantle?”

“Not…per se, no. I have more than enough scoop to incriminate half of the partygoers, however.”

“Well, we are not the Seraph, sweetling. Trivial legal details is not why I added myself to the guest list.”

Derija directs her gaze elsewhere and tentatively scratches her neck.  
“My headway has thus far…treaded along at a leisurely pace, I would phrase it.”

“Nary a trace, then. A pity.”

“…on the whole, yes.” Anise parts her lips again, but Derija holds up a hand to intervene. “ _But_ , we would be remiss to overlook that the day and the conference is still in its early stages. I will get there.”

Despite promises, Anise looks reluctant.  
“Not that I have qualms about your dedication, but we cannot be tardy. Our tempo may have to increase.” She reflexively brushes a finger over her lips.  
“Hmm. On reflection, I believe the wisest and most rational decision at this very moment is to speed things along and take bolder actions. I might have to post my associates in areas adjacent to some of the nobles. And-“

She has to pump the mental breaks, as Derija interrupts.  
“Hey, wait just a minute here. You can’t simply barge in and steal the whole show.”

“It is not a show, Derija, not a game. This is our mission and it must be accomplished.  
And why not?”

Derija now rises and equips an expression oozing with resolve.  
“Because this operation was supposed to be my responsibility. We had an accord.”

Anise stares at her former student, one of her top agents and gauges the emotions on display. She’s not backing down.  
“I get the impression you’re misinterpreting how this organization operates, Exemplar.”

Oh, so now they’re getting into ranks? This designation is only utilized in two circumstances – either with Anise’s disappointment, or as a manipulative ploy, to nudge Derija in the preferred track.  
Well, she won’t have it. Derija’s gaze amplifies, her fingers clenching.  
“You swore I would contain this situation my way.”

“This may have been the case while we were devising preliminary strategies, but we cannot brush aside the element of our deadline. We are on a tight schedule, as you are well aware. Sometimes, critical missions require a firmer-“

“And you don’t think I possess this quality?”, she asks almost indignantly.

“Did such words leave my mouth just now, Derija? You are allowing your pride to rule your judgment.”

Derija now folds her arms and nearly glares.  
“Anny, this is my House, _my_ family. The White Mantle have been our enemies as much as Kryta’s as a whole, for the last two centuries. I’m asking you to consider this while you permit me to retain the authorization you had already yielded and trust me.”

“Which is a lot to ask, when disaster is on the line. But what of the consequences? You could stumble into any number of blunders and more than merely the Shining Blade will pay the price. Your family will be equally adversely affected.”

Derija whips dismissively with her hand into the air.  
“Oh stop. Have you met me? When have I ever been anything but spotless in my performance?”

Facing her student steadily for a couple of seconds, Anise soon arches a brow, both incredulously and amusedly.  
“Do you really need a-“

“No, just agree with me, please.”

A limited staring contest ensues, an event which has played out plenty of times in the past. Derija can be frustratingly obstinate, Anise will grant.  
Following a hefty sigh and a resigned shrug, Anise reaches the only acceptable verdict, lest she desires an exceedingly grumpy agent for the next several weeks – perhaps years, knowing this one.  
“Fine, have it your way, sweetling. It’s all on you then, to distribute directives. Don’t come crawling and moaning to me if everything does not proceed according to plan.”

In an almost comically rapid fashion, Derija’s visage is swapped for a pleased and borderline smug one. Should Anise laugh or groan? She isn’t sure. The necromancer is too endearing for her own good.  
“Tsk. What could I possibly have done to earn this mistrust?”

Anise shakes her head, diminishes the gap in between, lays her hands on the younger woman’s shoulders and kisses Derija’s cheek. On occasion, some could arguably assume that the Countess acts more like a doting sister, or even mother, than a mentor.  
“At times, I can’t help but grow worried for you, Derija. You have nothing to prove, yet you so carelessly gamble with fate’s unpredictable whims.”

“It’s not a gamble if I have everything under control.”

“No one but the gods can be omniscient.”

“Good thing Grenth has my back then, yes?”

The next crease on Anise’s face is out of concern more than anything else.  
“I really wish you would handle these scenarios with more gravity, sweetling.”

Derija playfully pokes Anise’s stomach.  
“I _am_ serious! You’ll see. And stop calling me that already.”

“Oh, rest assured, I will – once you adhere to your own request.”

“And what, call you ‘Master’? Pff. Come now, even you wouldn’t like that, Anny. This just rolls off the tongue in a more elegant way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yes, Derija is in actuality an Exemplar from the Shining Blade and she has been personally tutored by Countess Anise. As an agent, not as a necromancer, since Anise is a mesmer._


	17. Tarnish not this night

A night unlike others, sparkling with splendor and thrumming with the rhythm of celebration and cheerful festivities.  
There can be no refuting that the main event of the week here in Broadhollow is the political conference and convocation of nobles, to dictate how the long-term strategies must be mapped out for the south and Kryta’s stability with other factions, but the aggregation invites for many exciting possibilities. The influx of citizens from all over the nation and other lands to boot, arouses more than simple deliberations.

An assortment of merchants, inhabitants, tourists, visitors and of course the mayor, peeks a ripe opportunity to extend the hospitality and appeal of the barony, by holding a grand festival during the off-hours, primarily in the evening and nighttime.  
In this commotion and regalement, Daeynwe insisted that the guild go visit, for she was tremendously keen on experiencing not just the nightlife, but the local entertainment on offer. She willfully confessed that she’s always enjoyed how human’s party. And as it happens, Dae received a bit of a lucky break, for Lishan met up with her and Sovica, proposing she show them around and take Dae to some of her favorite attractions. The sylvari emphatically agreed. Sov even wondered if her girlfriend was about to shriek out of glee.

As they submerge themselves in the ambience of the crowds, their ears fill with enthusiastic voices, their eyes reflect the lanterns and braziers alit left and right, and an array of absolutely luscious scents pleases their nostrils to no end.  
They visit a bunch of the food stalls and local flavors, check out some street performances – from torch jugglers and musicians, to asuran golem artists and daring charr sharpshooters – and enter a dancing compartment which soon crops up. Dae is genuinely adrift in a sea of enjoyment and Sov can’t ignore the infectious effects.

Dae also get to feast her eyes and ears more plainly on the manner which the commoners interact with the Vlasic daughters. There is undeniably a measure of veneration, but this aura does not resemble the gravity of Zodwa’s presence. The good Minister is the leader and the realm’s administrative protector, which has developed an aspect of dissociation, whether by will or aspiration.  
The sisters also differ in their treatment and attitudes. As some folks offer, Lishan tries to grab a drink for free, but Sov interferes hand over fist.

“Lishan, don’t. We should pay.”

The Lieutenant raises her brow perplexedly at her older sibling.  
“But they’re giving it to us.”

“Yes, as a courtesy. But we have more than enough coins to spare.”

“Aww, c’mon. What’s the big deal? It’s just one little drink and this is a festival. Take a load off and chill, Sparrow.”

Discontent wrinkles form on Sov’s brow.  
“This is our town, Lishan. Misusing privilege is bad form.”

Not yearning for the intensity which Sov can conjure up in debates like these, Lishan lifts her arms and abides.  
“Alright, have it your way. Far be it from me to question the almighty heiress”, she says with a hint of sarcasm.

Sov rolls her eyes and gently pokes her sister’s cheek.  
“Cut that pouting out. We’re being nice. Dwayna teaches us to be generous and charitable. We should live up to that ideal.”

Along the way, the trio has gone back and forth on a number of subjects, with Lishan displaying an avid interest in learning more connected to her sister’s sweet girlfriend. Eventually, they enter a topic that Lishan is especially partial to, because of her chosen profession as a soldier.  
“So, Barbs, got any fighting tips and tricks you wanna share?”

The sylvari’s big amber eyes blinks bemusedly.  
“What? ‘Barbs’?” Takes a moment or two, but the notion does set off in her mind. “Ooh, wait, I get it! Hah, good one. I like it!  
Anyway, I sure do! What’s your fancy?”

“Well, don’t recall us wrangling ‘bout any kind of battle techniques, and I’d like to know more of your skill set.”

“Ah, of course! Well, I’m educated in the usage of blades and guns, which you’ve probably noted already. I’ve also been taught a ton of shadowy arts, by people like Caithe.”

“Huh. Caithe? From Destiny’s Edge?”

Dae smiles in a somewhat smug fashion.  
“That’s the one! Wasn’t exclusively my mentor, but she taught me the ropes, helped me shadowstep and peer through the darkness.”

Lishan nods in a mildly appreciative way.  
“Impressive stuff. Got a lil’ brush with fame in ya, eh, Barbs?  
Saying that, though, gotta admit I’m a bit skeptical as far as your proficiencies go. Like, you thief types may be stealthy, but dangerous? Hmm. Don’t know about all that. Not wholly convinced you’ve got the talents to protect my sister.”

Sov exhales exasperatedly from her nose, foreseeing exactly where this is going, but the more oblivious Dae wades right into the muck of the situation - hook, line and sinker. For starters, she gasps.  
“Pardon?! That’s complete and utter shite! I’m more than capable of repelling anything that would come so much as within her line of sight! And my strength is well-known! Ask around, lots of people will attest!”

Ever enthused by a chance for a tussle, Lishan smirks and sets her hands at her hips challengingly.  
“That so? You got the thorns to prove it, shade girl?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Give me a chance and I’ll plant you on the ground, quicker than you can say ‘I’m sorry for ever doubting you, oh great Daeynwe’!”

Whereas Lishan laughs at the idle boasting, her sister sighs.  
“Dae, open your eyes. This is merely a ruse to get you going.”

“Pff, so what? Makes zero difference to me. If your bratty sister believe she’s got anything on me, she’ll regret that mistake soon enough!”

“Bratty?” Sov covers her eyes with a hand. “Look who’s talking.”

Thankfully, Lishan isn’t upset by the insult, only more inclined to escalate the tumble.  
“Hah! That’s some attitude you’ve got right there, Barbs; I’m into it. Not gonna save ya from getting floored, but I dig the spunk.”

The thief cuts in and taps the warriors stomach.  
“Oh, you will rue this challenge, Lieutenant. I swear.”

Bereft of desire to continue arguing, Sov has to sort of take a step back and allow them to indulge this clash.  
“Fine. Thought we’d concentrate on concrete entertainment, but…”, she mutters. “Anyway, you’ll need both space and tools to accomplish anything.”

“Yep, already got it all worked out”, boasts Lishan. “Let’s head to the Seraph barracks. Got some training weapons lying around.”

Sov steers an incredulous gaze at her sister.  
“Uh, can we truly just wander inside, willy-nilly?”

“’course we can. I’m second-in-command, remember?”

“And here I thought the title symbolized taking responsibility…  
You don’t suppose Captain Xinyi will protest your decision to abuse your authority?”

Lishan chuckles and encircles her sister’s shoulders with an arm.  
“Hey, don’t be such a stickler. We’re just gonna have a little fun, sis, nothing major.”

“…sometimes, I wonder how you secured this promotion in the first place.”

The main Seraph headquarters in the Broadhollow barony, similar to the Vlasic estate, is marginally disjointed from the town. Due to the general history of the town’s construction, incorporating it into the initial blueprints was never considered, as no one expected for this region to gain such a spike in population over a hundred years ago. That’s not to claim it’s halfway across the county – quite the contrary, it is found no more than a few hundred meters to the northeast, closer for any enemies to reach than the town.

While they have an office within the settlement, the garrison is the real star of the military show and it has a pretty decent size, with a reinforced wall, barracks, a large center training courtyard and various storage facilities. Three flags hang from poles on the eastern section – the national Krytan mark, the Seraph symbol made from Dwayna’s wings and House Vlasic’s emblem, which is also utilized as Broadhollow’s regional icon.

As they roll up on the entrance, two somewhat bored guards are stationed by it and they look at their superior – who is obviously not currently dressed in regulation attire, due to being off-duty – with confused expressions.  
“Lieutenant? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be attending the party?”

“Yup and we’re going back soon, but gotta do a little experiment first.”

“Uh, okay. We’ll open up the gates for you.”

The trio wanders into the center of the courtyard, which at this time is relatively vacant. The soldiers are either bolstering the security of the town, on patrol, off-duty or stationed on the ramparts. Telling the other two to stay put, Lishan enters one of the storehouses on her own and fetches a couple of training armaments hanging on racks.

Preceding her exit, Sov angles herself at Dae.  
“Be careful, dear; for both my sister’s and your own sake. Lishan can get rather…energetic and she’s highly formidable too.”

“What, you don’t think I have a shot?”

Sov snorts and playfully grips Dae’s chin.  
“We’ve fought dragon minions, Inquest goons, Flame Legion, Sons of Svanir and plenty of more bad guys together. Of course you do, but Lishan is no pushover. What I’m saying is – don’t go overkill with it.”

Before Dae can respond, Lishan exits the building and apparently, she had overheard every word.  
“She’s not wrong, ya know – I’m no easy prey. My prowess has been honed against loads of beastly dangers, centaurs and bandits over the years.”

In exchange, the sylvari offers a cheeky smirk of her own.  
“Tsk, might be useful versus low-hanging fruit, but I’m an altogether different mango.”

“Huh. Lotta fruit refs being busted out. Thought you guys weren’t big fans of veggie puns.”

“It’s not a vegetable!”

After ceasing in front of the two, Lishan drops the gear she brought on the ground.  
“Right, let’s get into the setup. What’s your druthers? Axe? Blade? Dagger?”

“Longsword and dagger, if you please.”

“Two, huh? Gonna be a blast watching that on front row.”  
Lishan tosses the designated tools over, while she grabs an axe and shield for herself. The rest, she scoots away with a foot.  
“Next, rules of engagement, as it were – no unfair or excessively damaging blows, no biting, no headbutting and no kicking dirt. That last one is just crude anyway.”

Dae clears her throat tentatively, but provides no clarity.  
“Right. And abilities? We still allowed some of those?”

“For sure. I ain’t afraid of what you can dish out. That’s why we’re doing this ol’ thing, after all.  
Tell me when you’ve gotten a feel for your pokey sticks and we’ll begin.”

With a small nod, the sylvari lobs the wooden items between her hands, swapping over and over, until she winds up at a beneficial formation.  
“Hmm, a tad light for my taste, but they’ll do. So, how did you say we commence this thing?”

Unfortunately, Lishan does not intend to wait until the rogue has settled into an advantageous assault, and instead launches her own. The Lieutenant storms into her, forcing a stumped Dae to employ her reflexes for a swift retreat.  
“Like this!”

Luckily, Dae is still exceptionally quick on her feet and dodges the incessant swings.  
“Hah, look who’s hungry! If you wanted me that badly, could’ve just said so!”

“Tsk. Stalling doesn’t suit me, is all. We’re getting this party popping. Gonna show ya how the Seraph deals with your type.”

Dae giggles and vaults backwards.  
“Have to catch me first!”

Harnessing her dexterity, Dae sprints and gains a tangible level of distance, evading for a couple of instances, but not to the degree where it gets gratuitous. When an opportunity arises after half a minute or so, she leaps at it with fervor, trying to get a hit in.  
As Lishan is no slowpoke, with plenty of speed of her own, she blocks each blow with remarkable expertise. The last one, she slightly slants her shield for, in order to reflect it and counterattack with a bash – albeit without massive power behind it – which is a needle thread away from knocking Dae on her behind, but once more, she reverses at the exactly appropriate second.

Sov is by no means tense watching this lonely conflict, but in spite of initial griping, the fierceness of these two is enough to incite curiosity regarding the victor.  
After a period of decent strikes from Dae, Lishan actually manages to surprise her. The Seraph has guided her closer to one of the barracks walls, by permitting herself to outwardly be pressed hard. At an opportune instant, though, she deflects two slashes, rapidly skips aside and then thrusts her shoulder out to tackle the sylvari point-blank into the wall. With no anticipation for this occasion, she fumbles against it.  
Lishan discovers her chance to finish the duel once and for all with a rap to the chest, but Dae is not yet defenseless. She narrowly spins out of its range, bringing herself into safer territory. Outside the field, Sov drops a breath she forgot she was holding.

“Well, well, aren’t you the crafty one!”, remarks Dae.

The Lieutenant presents a sly smile.  
“It’s part of the job. If you think you’re the first tough customer I’ve had to wrestle with, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Oh yeah? Then maybe I should break out something I doubt any of those losers have ever been able to nail down.”

“Getting into straight-face town now, are we? Do your worst, Barbs. I’m built for it.”

At face value, Dae’s strategy may be framed as simplistic, certainly not inventive. She attacks head on, batters Lishan with her blades, maneuvers that the human can neutralize with no sweat. With such an open field, the Lieutenant is both disappointed and becomes filled with an appetite for a countermove. Seems like a waste to let it pass her by, right?  
Sadly, this is precisely what the thief was hoping to achieve. Observing as Lishan exposes herself and lets the axe fly, Dae does not merely dodge it, but expends all the pent-up energy she accrued. She vanishes into the shadows and rematerializes somewhat sideways behind the warrior. She levels the sword at Lishan’s back, while the dagger rests at the cusp of the throat.

“Aaand gotcha.”

With no escape, Lisha stops flat and breathes out. She notices how she’s worked up some genuine steam, coming off as both stunned and intrigued.  
“Damn, that was…really good, to be honest.”

With the conclusion of the battle, Dae immediately lowers her weapons and strafes to gaze at her opponent’s front. An almost glowing grin adorns her.  
“I know, right? Courtesy of Caithe’s exercises! But mostly my genius, naturally.”

“Hah! So much for your humble manners.”

“Never claimed to be!”

Having no patience for sore losers, Lishan showcases good sportsmanship in the aftermath and extends her hand.  
“Good fight, though, Barbs, hands down. Thanks. Reckon I needed that.”

Holstering her own instruments, Dae eagerly shakes it.  
“Any time! A good scrap is fun all hours of the day.”

“Won’t see me arguing. C’mon, you’ve earned some drinks. They’re on me.”

“Woo!”

With the deceleration of the pace, Sov saunters up to them and crosses her arms.  
“Are you two finally done goofing around?”

As it happens, Dae has not yet lost such a touch. A playful glint enters her eyes and she swivels to face her beloved. Moments after, she startles the heiress by kneeling.  
“My most gracious and magnificent lady Sovica, I bring good tidings! I fought and summarily trounced this masterful knight, all in your honor!”

An eyebrow rises on Lishan’s features, while scratching her head.  
“Uh, not sure ‘knight’ is the correct term, but-“

“Shh!  
I fought her in your honor, to expand your influence and prove to your rivals that you are a woman to be reckoned with! All I ask in return is your hand in a dance.” She now turns the ambers up and offers her own.  
“Is it to your approval, Your Excellence? Have I earned my prize?”

The entire demonstration is a little bit of a shock to the heiress. When did Dae start to practice speeches of this formal caliber? Was it pre-prepared or merely a coincidence?  
Either way, Sov giggles and shakes her head in mild disbelief. But she can indulge her beloved and play into it. She straightens the blouse she has on and elegantly slips her fingers within the sylvari’s.  
“Your battle was most extraordinary, and you fought with valor and clairvoyance – virtues we respect in House Vlasic. I accept your plea and grant your reward, brave warrior.”

Dae beams and plants a tender kiss on the back of Sov’s hand, before pulling up and more casually nuzzles her hair.  
“Splendid!”

The sharp transition elicits a sweet laughter from the elementalist.  
“You are such a dork sometimes.”

“Mhm, big time. And the best part? You’ll be out on the dancefloor with this silly dork all night!”


	18. Fire's jurisdiction

As merrymaking and festivities across Broadhollow commences, Daeynwe is not alone in having a keen interest for what the locals bring to the table. Rea has always had an outgoing perspective and shares the exhilaration. These half-miniature surroundings are as of yet not wholly familiar to her and she’ll definitely need more time to acclimatize, but that isn’t something which a barrel of mead or ale can’t fix. And while she’s at it, why not someone to warm her sheets with as well? After all, who knows what these southerners are capable of?

But of course, for an excursion of this flavor, she can’t very well amble through the crowds all alone, for this would be far too dismal and even lamentable from her standpoint. She requires a few companions to fully immerse herself in the festival spirit.  
Unfortunately, Katla would not be caught dead in public with her during such commotion. Rea urged her to indulge it and have some fun, broaden her horizons, but the older sister was adamant to elude Rea’s extroverted manners, which she thinks escalates to a fault. Rea tried to enlist a sullen pout, but it did not find purchase. After relenting, Rea instead sought herself to Razok and Ovillus – two men of which she did not give any recourse. They were being strung along, and that’s that.

As they drop into the city from the Vlasic manor, they do not pursue the same route as Sovica, Daeynwe and Lishan. Rea has her own druthers for where the night wind will take them. Though she may have hoped for silent compliance from the men, that’s no dice. They won’t go in peace to this predicament. The asura issues the opening complaint.  
“I’m incredulous as to whether I have pertinently articulated it, but my estimation remains that this is a pointless endeavor, Rea. Frivolous human social avocations are beneath me.”

Rea is, as usually, minimally fazed by his grumbling. It arouses only laughter.  
“Aw, stop being such a bore, Professor! It’ll be great, I swear.”

She hears a muffled sigh and picks up on his hand clenching.  
“I would”, he accentuates sharply, “if it were not for two principal variables – 1) my last two outdoors experiences of becoming inebriated in your vicinity has culminated in repeated disasters and 2) I am an academic, not a celebratory enthusiast.  
All I truly will is to be left alone, in order to perform my erudite investigations and cerebral pursuits. This extraneous activity satisfies neither.”

“Sure it does.”

“…ridiculous. How? How could it ever achieve the scintillating stimuli I crave?”

Rea crouches down somewhat and teasingly pats his head.  
“It’ll help you and your big brain relax. Can’t keep your head straight if you’re wound so tight for hours on end, can ya?”

Ovillus frowns up at her and fillips her hand away, as he conjures up a response.  
“Pardon? That’s-…you aren’t really-…completely baseless-…”  
Finally, the words dig themselves into his psyche and he shuts his eyes in aggravation, snapping his fingers at the same time.  
“…a logical deduction. Curse you!”

Rea grins proudly in exchange.  
“Can’t beat the relaxation champion at her own game, my friend.”

The asura is not alone with his doubtful stance, though the other man is far less single-minded.  
“Hmm. The prof’s got a point”, says Raz. “Not that I’m averse to a bit of feasting and drinking, but...”  
As they wander around, people shift uncomfortable or shy away from the group.  
“Feel like these humans are a lil’ more uh, dubious to my partaking.”

This conjecture is not entirely unfounded. Despite everything the guild carried out and contributed during the summit, the ceasefire and the treaty talks, humans and charr have still been at war for hundreds of years. Some of these people may never even have glimpsed a friendly charr.  
Luckily, Rea is here to disprove such notions.  
“Your opinions might be a lil’ skewed”, she weighs in. “At least as far as the locals go. I mean, they even rented a couple of charr performers. How in the Spirits’ names would your sight be worse? It’s not like you’re nasty to look at.”

Raz’s ears flip indecisively and he scratches his neck.  
“Uh, well…”

“Also, the side-eyeing you’ve spotted may be a coincidence and not aimed at you.”  
She points her thumb at the fourth figure in their small posse.  
“Don’t forget I’ve got Grawdr here. Compared to you, he’s still a big polar bear. Stands out little, I’d say.”

“But he’s tamed.”

“Yeah, but how would they know that?”

As Grawdr sniffs the air and plods along pretty harmlessly, Raz is unconvinced.  
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe. But I suppose not everyone can see the world – or bears – like we do. Guess it is physically possible for him to chow down one of these kids, if he really got the hankerin’ for it.”

“Uh, sounds about right, but probably best not to mention that detail.”  
As they progress through the crowd, some do noticeably step aside to afford them a bigger scope. This doesn’t necessarily have to imply fear, but rather the sizes.  
“If nothing else, you could break out some engineering parlor tricks. That’s bound to make you captivate an audience.”

Raz runs an uncertain claw along his jaw.  
“Don’t think you’ve got the right idea of how my machines operate. They’re not made for the entertainment value.”

“Are you kidding me? I always have a grand old time watching you get to work, Raz. These folks are gonna be all over it, mark my words!”

“Eh. Different strokes for different folks, Svalen. After all, you’re something of an oddball.”

“…hey!”

After slithering by the throngs and steering clear of potential collisions and confrontations, they end up at a stall next to one of the food vendors, partially on Grawdr’s ‘request’. He smells something good from one of the meat booths and it’s hard for Rea to deny her dear companion’s pleading grunts. Outside on the front, there are tables and chairs set up, giving Ovillus a chance to sit and pour over his studies while simultaneously participating to a lesser degree in social happenings.

“I’ll go get in line, to fix some steaks and drinks for us. Can I rely on you two to hold a table in the meantime?”

Raz snorts amusedly.  
“Ya don’t seriously think we’re that inept, do you?”

The norn winks back at him.  
“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Bah! C’mon Grawdr, better you come sit with us than stand in that crowded queue.”  
Grawdr emits a murmur, but follows suit. On the way to their seats, it occurs to the charr that Rea might’ve been on target with these humans, since the residents in proximity stare weirdly at the large white bear, rather than him.  
“He’s not as scary as he looks”, Raz tells a couple of teenagers. “Scratch ‘im in the right place and this fella will be as sweet as any pet.”

The children glance at each other, ascertaining whether anyone dares to verify the claim. Couple of seconds later, a small group approaches and Grawdr gives testament to his friendly nature in the right company, as they brush and pat his fur.  
Meanwhile, as she stands in line, Rea gets both distracted and delighted as she discovers a particular individual coming her way, even if it is presumably unintentional.

Captain Xinyi of the Seraph is out and about on the streets, garbed in the getup of her Order, with the rank insignia sported openly. She’s scrutinizing the citizens and visitors alike, and everyone ostensibly give her room to fulfill it or adjust their demeanors as she marches past.  
The only person who doesn’t appear needlessly solemn is Rea, who smiles brightly and waves eagerly, abandoning her slot in the column. Xinyi is unprepared for it, judging by her widened eyes, but she rapidly attunes her exterior on short notice.

“Miss Svalen.”

“Captain Xinyi! What a pleasant surprise to see you getting down to party with the rest of us.”

“Shouldn’t be – this is my town, as you’re aware of by now and I gravitate towards a hands-on method. Ergo, I’m not attending in the ordinary capacity. Simply making the rounds, to insure everyone’s safety and minimizing misconduct.”

Rea giggles.  
“Appropriate for a night like this. Any confiscations so far?”

“Not yet, but the night is young.”

A separate component catches Rea’s eye, as she discerns their immediate setting.  
“Looks like the citizens yield plenty of room for you.”

“Quite right. I surmise it’s got to do with my sunny disposition”, she states in a mildly sarcastic style.

“You touched on that when we first met.”

“I’ve always lived by a code and I heed it to this day – a meticulous mind gets results.”

“Hmm. This may well be true”, she replies and grants the Captain a once-over. “But chances are how…striking you look in that armor has something to do with it too.”

Xinyi cocks her eyebrow and yet still divulges a faint smile at the flattery.  
“That is kind of you to remark, ma’am, but the residents of this town tend not to perceive me in such a fashion.”

“No? That’s too bad. There’s a lot to admire.”

“And fear.”

Rea smiles and waves her hand in a nonchalant manner.  
“Bah. If they’re afraid of this image, it’s only cuz they haven’t gotten to know you properly.”

“Nor have you, miss Svalen. Trust me, sensitivity is not my hallmark.”

It hasn’t escaped Rea that she has two – technically three – people still biding for her, but she just can’t help herself. There’s something so…tempting in regard to this human. She isn’t being all-out rebuffed, so why not take the leap?  
“Well, I bet you’ve got a ton of duties to dig into, a night like this.”

“Every night, more like. A Seraph’s duty is never done.” She crosses her arms, eyes going off course, floating above the masses.  
“But your suggestion is accurate. The spectacles throughout these conferences are, more often than not, a rambunctious time of year. Wouldn’t be surprised if I’m drenched in spilled ale, wine and a side of vomit at the end of the shift, from the arrests.”

“Then what would you say to a fired up norn who wants to lend a hand? I could help out setting these people straight.”

Once more, she extracts a curious, though puzzled reaction from the Captain.  
“You’re offering?”

“’course! Might not have your experience, but I’ve got a lot of punch in me”, she boasts with a grin on her face, while lifting her arm to pat at her bicep.

Xinyi snorts mirthfully.  
“You’re a brave woman for wanting to pitch in and I thank you, but I’ve already got a whole heap of Seraph all over the streets. Besides, I’d never enlist a civilian for this type of job at any rate.”

Rea huffs and plops her hands on her hips.  
“Pff. Civilian? Have you inspected our records? We’ve fought a far-reaching variety of enemies, high and low – from dragon minions to charr renegade scum. Wouldn’t dub us as weak.”

“And I wasn’t implying anything of the sort, but the fact remains that you’re not trained, disciplined soldiers. Hence why I’d prefer you stay in the current sector of the festivities. Have fun, miss Svalen.”

The Captain may be endeavoring to disentangle herself, but Rea can’t let her go that easily. She really wishes for Xinyi to stick around, at least for a bit.  
“You figure there’s any chance you’d accept a drink?”

“Unfortunately not. I don’t imbibe on duty. It’s irresponsible and unsuitable.”

“Aww. The Seraph seriously are a bunch of party poopers, huh?”

She manages to induce a chuckle in the shorter woman.  
“But I appreciate you asking.”

“Well, lemme know if you ever have a change of heart.”  
Xinyi starts walking off, viewing this as the climax, but Rea provides a few final words.  
“Or if there’s anything else I can get done for you, Captain. Just name it.”

At first, Xinyi dismisses the idea, as it is mostly spawned in the spirit of humor and charm, but then something strikes her and she freezes. Perhaps she can actually permit a slim gap?  
She shifts about.  
“Heard you’re a pretty decent shot with a bow.”

Rea tips her head back, almost on the verge of being offended.  
“Decent? Either you’ve dug up faulty rumors or someone is blatantly lying – I’m the best.”

“Or self-aggrandizing.”

“No way! I’m the pinnacle of what a ranger should be, the ideal for all Shiverpeak archers, as sharp-eyed as they get.” She grandiosely throws her hand in the air. “Raven beats beneath my arrows and Snow leopard blesses my precision! Ask Eir Stegalkin for confirmation, if you’re unsure. She’ll vouch for every word. If you’d fought by my side, you wouldn’t suspect otherwise.”

“You don’t say?” A facetious tone circulates in Xinyi’s voice now. “Alright. Come by on the daytime shift and maybe I’ll allow you to demonstrate all this bluster directly.”

Rea is slightly blown away, not having anticipated traction. This is soon supplanted by joy and a brilliant grin.  
“It’s a date then!”

Xinyi skeptically tilts her head back and forth.  
“Hmm. It’s something. See you around, ‘ideal archer’.”

A number of minutes later, as she returns to her friends, there’s nearly a spring in her step. Raz watches her leerily.  
“Lemme guess – you came on to someone.”

She laughs heartily.  
“Ooh, miles better, my friend!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Expanding this fling wasn't in the original plans, but a while ago, I figured it could add to the story and the setting, to help explore the local Seraph some more. And it's a fun interaction to write_


	19. Reimbursement

Celebrations among the norn and humans are very much alike, in more ways than either would care to count. Or that’s what Katla believes, anyway. Rambunctious, hearty, song and dance, food and drink overflowing. It’s pleasant enough, if one has the penchant, as well as the stomach. Katla has always been…dubious, if she would be willing to claim that for her own backyard. Commotion and gratification is more her sister’s forte. And yet, on some plane or another, there are draws.

She had been so assertive with Rea, as her sister came to beseech – and partially manipulate – her, for she had no perceivable desires whatsoever to enter this unruly mess. So, what then is the paltry excuse for her presence here? She feels dumb, befuddled and a semblance of deception, as if she hadn’t trudged on down by her own agency. The truth is arguably way more muddled than that, but this is another scrap she rejects acknowledgement.

As she proceeds past the border wall and into the central districts, she attempts to be clever, spying for where Rea is so she won’t have to endure any untimely confrontations. As it is, her sister is soon enchanted by a bit of singing and reveling of the locals, allowing Katla to skulk into a secluded corner and yet still occupy a decent view of the events that unfold. Some of them are of less meriting significance than others.

What Rea has in store for the evening is lost on her, but she’s also unconcerned as to the outcome, for Katla has other scenes to center her concentration. A human, to be exact.  
Katla caught wind of how Derija would be down here and after a brief search, she scopes out the necromancer mingling in the middle of the denizens in the neighborhood. She relocates and comes upon a chair to sit down on and await what is to transpire.

Initially, she’s safe in her knowledge that she has remained unseen from her quarry, as it were, but this doesn’t last for long. Whether by intuition or coincidence, Derija’s eyes levitate to her existence. Nigh instantly, they begin to glimmer, just prior to her sashaying over in a dignified manner, a sophisticated flair flanking her every sway. Katla isn’t going to dismiss that it’s alluring to watch, but so she is in general.

Katla does all she can to not show her hand too much and relinquish to what degree she surveys Derija’s body. Someone might notice and accuse her of leering.  
“And who is this I spy with my little eye?”, comments the necromancer with a tempting tone. “It would seem to be my favorite Guardian on Tyria. You look a smidge lonely over here.”

Katla has strived to appear presentable and maintain a low profile, not dejected.  
“I prefer it this way.”

“Sitting here sulking all by yourself in a corner is your version of a fun time?”

The norn rolls her eyes.  
“Not sulking. And I never claimed to be looking for fun.”

“Clearly.” Having reached the right venue, Derija scrutinizes the surroundings, before motioning at an empty chair.  
“Would you dispute some company?”

Katla goes over the same piece of furniture fleetingly and shrugs.  
“Don’t particularly mind, but…”

And it’s too late to issue further input, for Derija has already progressed and sat down; legs crossed, elbow on the table.  
“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No. I’m fine, for now.”

“I see. Just sitting here all by your lonesome self, staring at the residents meandering about?”

“Something like that.”

Another curious brightness in those lovely brown eyes. Katla resolves to not avert hers.  
“Hmm. I wonder.”  
Together, they spectate the scenery for a period, as Rea enters the fray on the dancefloor, having found a charr amenable to her invitation. He oozes of uncertainty, but Rea’s gregarious aura prompts him to abide.  
“Let me try some conjecture – you’re here to supervise her movements, aren’t you?”

Katla engages with the shorter woman’s gaze, though less enthused by opposition.  
“Who?”

“Your sister. To prevent any harmful acts from occurring to her.”

“Why would I?”

Derija snorts skeptically.  
“Oh, please. I’ve studied you and miss Rea. She’s dear to you, sufficiently so for this precaution.”

“You…have keen eyes.”

“That, and perceptive ability. I dislike permitting details to confound me.”

“Unusual for a necromancer.”

The human doesn’t fully reject this rhetoric, tilting her head sideways.  
“For the average deathcaster, mayhap, but I am a member of the noble class of Kryta, miss Svalen. Social aptitude, political acumen and flexibility are highly prized, as well as essential.”

“I see.”

With a swell of anticipation, Derija slides closer over the table and her smile expands.  
“So, did my accuracy strike true? Or did I miss the mark?”

She did proclaim it was a guess, hence why Katla can’t fault her for missteps, but she hadn’t expected this lady to get so…adorably thrilled to hear the truth.  
Still, Katla just shrugs.  
“Maybe.”

“Hah. That might very well be the complete inverse of ‘forthcoming’.”

“Probably.”

“Ah, stop it. Surely you can spare more than that?”

Katla re-centers on the partying citizens.  
“Don’t understand why you bother.”

“I’m an inquisitive individual. How about a hint? Perhaps a hot-and-cold situation?”

“…what?”

Derija chuckles and disregards the idea.  
“Never mind.”  
Like Katla, she soon diverts towards the array of activity going down at one of the stages within the hub of people. The dancing has truly swelled and folks in that portion are having a ton of fun; spinning, singing and engulfing themselves in the spirits of intimacy and rhythm.  
As a distinctly fanciful tune fills the area, an ember sparks in her mind.  
“Wouldn’t you fancy trying out a dance or two? Looks quite exciting.”

“No. I don’t enjoy dancing. It’s not why I’m here.”

“Ever attempted it?”

“Once or twice. Not my thing.”

As her livelier side gains influence, Derija slowly brushes her fingers in circles at the surface of the table.  
“Is there not a remote possibility you’ve simply never had the appropriate partner?”

“There is none.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” She stands abruptly.  
“I suggest-…no, _compel_ you to join me for a song.”

Katla had worked to her utmost limits to uphold a cloak of stiffness, as to not attract the risk of being outmatched, yet now she shifts to Derija with puzzlement.  
“…what? Join you?”

“Yes, out on the floor.”

“…and dance with you?”

“Was this not adequately conspicuous already?”

Katla is taken by reluctant surprise, somewhat jolted.  
“That’s impossible.”

“And how, precisely, would it not be feasible?”

“I…you…there’s no way we can.”

Derija snickers, a rather charming sound.  
“For what reason?”

“You are…” She sizes the human up and down. Even in this sitting-and-standing contrast, it’s irrefutable. “…too short.”

The human huffs, unimpressed, and puts a hand on Katla’s arm.  
“Bah! Take my word for it, my fearless Guardian, height shall not be an obstacle in this case. I’m highly adaptable, you see.”

“It won’t work.”

“It will, and I _insist_.”

Katla gazes straight at Derija, hoping to stare her down. She is far larger, taller and thicker – if she so wanted, she could easily crush the necromancer without overbearing effort, at least physically. But Derija is not dissuaded. She tackles the challenge, even with a mildly elevated chin.  
Ultimately, it is Katla who’s made to resign. Though she’s untouched on the outside, internally, she is embarrassed. Not solely due to being cornered, but she’s having to face the reality of what they’ll do.

“…it’s going to look stupid.”

“Nonsense. We will be the stars of this show’s arena, Katla. My splendor and your imposing shape is an exemplary fusion.”

Katla is on the cusp of submitting, but then realizes how genuinely dumb it will be when presented.  
“I...am sorry, I can’t allow it. Not here, not this openly. I won’t.”

Derija lifts an eyebrow, though she doesn’t strike Katla as mad, or even discontent. Instead, she wears a moderately devious guise.  
“Interesting. I wasn’t aware that you’re so ungrateful.”

“…what does that mean?”

“Unless my memory utterly fails me, I did assist you with a grave…personal matter recently. The meditation session, remember? Without my excelling coverage, you wouldn’t have slept as soundly that night, nor would you enjoy your time here as aptly.  
I’m unfamiliar with conventions and etiquette of the Shiverpeaks, but I would argue with avid motive, that you owe me.”

Even preceding the finish, Katla’s image is one of resignation. The final straw, the masterstroke.  
“…Bear’s ass. Fine. You win.”

The smirk on Derija’s lips is frustratingly smug.  
“I always do.” She gracefully and theatrically offers her hand. “Escort me to the proper setting, will you?”  
Katla exhales in a taxed fashion, but adheres to Derija’s wishes and encircles the hand, at which point she begins to guide the human to the floor. They are an irregular sight to say the least and Katla gets a strangely out of place vibe being so humongous in the midst of beings half her size, but while it has the norn on an edge, her companion is of an entirely contrasting mindset.  
“Ignore them. Their eyes are steeped in nothing but jealousy.”

As they reach the position and cut their stroll short, Katla offers the only sensible solution she can discern.  
“What if I just lift you?”

Derija looks slightly appalled.  
“ _Excuse me?_ You will do no such thing, you oaf. We are in this arrangement for the sake of dancing. Do not try to lure me into anything less.”

“…Derija-“

“ _Lady_ Derija, until I sanction otherwise.”

Katla clenches her fist for a second, but contains any outbursts.  
“Lady Derija”, she accentuates, “our height difference is beyond capable of doing what it is you ask.”

“Stop trying to slither out of this. I demand a slow and dignified twist between us as is your debt and will tolerate nothing which deviates from it.”

She is testing Katla’s patience and the norn raises her arm in aggravation.  
“Then how in the Mists are we doing this? Tell me, because I don’t get it. You’re so small.”

“A peculiar assertion. Couldn’t it be more feasible that you’re too big?”

“Same difference.”

Derija emits a breathy laughter and pokes Katla’s robust stomach.  
“You are awfully prickly. And shy.”

“No. Just don’t believe it can be done.”

With Katla’s resistance, despite the agreed upon deal, Derija surveys her with disappointment.  
“How utterly unspectacular. I wouldn’t have assumed such a big, powerful and shrewd woman would possess a shortage of finesse.”

The norn furrows her brow sternly.  
“…you’re grating. And stubborn.”

The wry expression on Derija’s lips has not diminished. Now, it intensifies.  
“And I know what I want.” She extends her hands. “Come. I shall instruct you in the superior form.”

There’s a prevailing reluctance in Katla which coaxes her to brush aside these words and retreat, wisdom that she dearly treasures as of right now. But she can’t discard paying her dues. Doing so would render some part of her a woman of inadequate honor, so far as her own perception of it goes.  
And so, the dance commences, with Derija’s hands being consumed by Katla’s gigantic ones, even if it is an impressively tender clasp. The union itself is not as smooth as others would perform, but Derija manages to develop a flow which the norn can grok.  
Granted, it does call upon Derija to hold up her arms a little further than ordinary and Katla is pressed to bend, but it swings.

“See? Not so horrendous, is it?”

Katla partially glares at her.  
“…I look like a fool.”

“I take umbrage with that. You’re magnificent.”

Below, Katla struggles immensely to not step or hurt her partner in any way, an endeavor Derija becomes aware of and finds incredibly endearing.  
In the meantime, the norn is getting increasingly mesmerized by the necromancer’s eyes as their gazes are bound in the center, the noise outside of their twining hearts vanishing from their purview. It is…oddly consoling.

In this moment, this serenity, Derija’s features transform into a genuine and affectionate likeness, one that Katla grows attached to. She doesn’t mirror it, but her face does unclench and soften. And so, once more – on par with their last encounter – Derija prevails where few others can, to temper her protests and assuage her worries. Katla feels at peace embracing the shorter woman, which makes her squeeze the hands ever so slightly.

“How do you do that?”, she whispers.

“Do what?”

“Let your confidence stray out and…envelop me so easily.”

Derija’s subdued laughter is heavenly to hear, though she does carry a tinge of slyness to it.  
“I doubt it’s a skill which could be educated. It’s a gift.”

“So it seems.”

Katla is on the verge of admitting another aspect, from her heart of hearts, but that’s when the two are finally discovered by Rea elsewhere on the same portion of the town.  
“Hah! This is amazing! The bear can dance after all!”

As a result, Katla tightens somewhat again, to Derija’s light chagrin. She had only barely triumphed in unlocking these internal strains. Does she really need to repeat it now?  
Rea laughs, but doesn’t stick around to exacerbate it. She merely winks teasingly, as she goes on with her partner. Prompts the Guardian to shake her head.  
“Your sister is a bit of a handful, isn’t she?”

Katla’s turn to snort, both in defeat and irritation.  
“You have no idea.”

“But wise.”

“Maybe. Don’t tell her.”

A warm spirit flutters past on Derija’s expression, until another sliver of curiosity dawns on her.  
“What’s this ‘bear’ moniker about, hmm?”

And just like that, Katla’s eyes blows away, lapsing out from the link they had previously shared, though she doesn’t actually leave.  
“Don’t know what you mean.”

“Hah! My lovely miss Svalen, don’t be coy now. You don’t presume my hearing is that poor, do you? I might take offense.”

“I didn’t catch anything.”

“Oh yes you did. Don’t suppose you can elude my prying so handily.”  
To Katla’s surging shock, she’s swayed to turn right back around to Derija, as she detects how the necromancer’s hand has snaked right in under her shirt and is gradually caressing its way up her stomach. The previous illumination in her eyes is now nearly glowing with delight. The conviction with which she advances should have Katla pushing over the edge, but in lieu of this she has the exact inverse reaction – a thrilling shiver runs through her body. It’s been a long while since anyone made her feel such exhilaration.  
“Pretty please?”, Derija asks sweetly. “I won’t say a peep to anyone. You have my word.”

Katla swallows, for all she’s worth, refusing to openly acknowledge how this human is making her head spin.  
“Uh…yeah, sure.  
Erm, well, for a decade or so now, some people in the mountains have called me ‘Bearblood’. Say it’s ‘cause of my ferocious and solitary nature – something I share with Bear. Apparently.”

Derija giggles candidly and preciously.  
“Bear, hmm? I like that, but the ‘blood’ part, I shall have to second-guess.”

“Feel free. I didn’t come up with it.”

“Indeed. You know, it makes me ponder whether I could channel something better…”

Katla frowns, albeit mildly.  
“…don’t even try it.”


	20. Spoken solvent

The Ministry conference, while a beacon for many diverse and sometimes indeterminable sources across Kryta and its neighboring territories, still is the frontal focus and should remain an actual rallying point of politicians with seats in the institution. Up to this day, at least one such meeting has been conducted, but was expended first and foremost on introductory functions and to establish the contents of the agenda for the upcoming days.

While Sovica was expected to greet and rub shoulders with the prestigious guests to carve out political and social connections, she is not allowed to personally attend the Ministry conference in a participatory capacity, only spectate from afar. Today, she has chosen to sit in for a while, on Daeynwe’s curious request. The sylvari wanted to observe what it was all about, see how humans govern their people, despite Sov’s insistence that it wouldn’t be an engrossing experience for her.

The Vlasics and their employees assembled a stage in one of the more expansive and open subsections of the garden, with lots of chairs in neat rows and then one moderately raised platform that they face, for the speaker to present their arguments from. For the moment, there’s an older gentleman up top, making a case for more lenient taxation upon specific categories of imported goods, though he seems to be gaining little traction from his colleagues.

At last, the turn shifts to the next person in line. A man rises from his seat off to the side and declares the transition.  
“Next speaker – Baroness Zodwa, of House Vlasic.”

The matriarch grabs her cane which was slanted towards her seat and gets on her feet, to gradually pace in the center of the other ministers, all the way to the stage, where she appears before them. Today, she’s garbed in a dress, sash and jewelry of even greater formal characteristics, not only in violet and gold tints, but wielding the Vlasic emblem on her body. Her arms are fully visible due to the sleeveless top, but her legs are fully masked.

She clears her throat, hands placed on the cane in front of her and regards everyone with a somber sense of nobility. She commences her speech with the relevant formalities.  
“Speakers of the Six”, she says and nods her head at the representatives of the gods, “Countess Anise”, she indicates second, as the Queen’s liaison, “Legate Minister”, she finishes off with, as is prudent. This is all prior to delving into the topic at hand.  
“I have already welcomed you all to my domain and you have managed to indulge in its many treats, joys and blessings for a few days, which I do hope has been to your liking.” A cursory and conceding buzz runs through the ministers, which she anticipated. “The reason I have asked for the word concerns this very province, specifically pertaining to infrastructure and transportation security.”

Her statement has garnered the full attention of virtually everyone in the audience, though a few give off clues of reluctance, knowing what may be coming and their own objections to it. Zodwa forges ahead.  
“I know some of you will disagree, but I am here to tackle the tangled issue of advocating for increased commitment to stabilize the roads between the northwest and southeast regions of Kryta. Down here, we are far removed from the safer spheres in Queensdale, for bandits, centaurs and rogue undead linger as hazardous segments of everyday life, every which way. Without alternative recourse or sufficient outside contributions, we have therefore had to rely on craftier methods to negate the risks.  
On the next ministerial assembly, I mean to introduce an official motion to allot some of this nation’s funds to ensure higher security measures are put in place, with the building of a new central road between the regions that shall be drawn further west of the current route. Of course, to render this project as safe and functional as possible, I’m open to suggestions, advice and comments, prior to the proposal’s formulation.”

On account of the talks not being in a fully formal stage, a few voices rise to provide their menagerie of insights and Zodwa has to brace herself for both complaints and critique.  
“An endeavor such as this will be a costly business, calling for a great deal of manpower”, rises from the voice of a man which the Baroness can trace to a minister from western Queensdale. “If this road is what Broadhollow desires and as it principally benefits Broadhollow, shouldn’t _Broadhollow_ be paying for the effort themselves?”

Zodwa steers a sharper glare at this man and remedies her stance.  
“We do have a reasonable stash of gold in our possession and do intend to supply a large percentage of the expenditure, but not enough for the entire massive undertaking. It must be a joint effort. That is, unless external members of this Ministry feel that the southeast is not worth accommodating or supporting, as well as collecting the revenue we receive from our considerable proportion of trading with the sylvari and Lion’s Arch?”

“Uh, well…”

“If your beliefs do contrast with mine or we lack for any worthwhile backing, the baronies in this county would have to seek out support from additional sources, which I would rather not heed.”

A sliver of hushed chatter emerges among the attendants, until one woman boosts her voice.  
“What about contacting the Lionguard? It’s an alternative to ponder. You could work out a profitable deal with them and downsize the price tag for Kryta.”

“I have indeed contemplated such fruitful associations”, Zodwa concedes, “but ultimately refrained from it. In the end, the Lionguard belongs to Lion’s Arch, which still is a foreign power and I wish to forestall procedures that might bind us to them so intricately out of respect for the crown and the Ministry’s authority. Should nothing evolve in the long run, however, I’m afraid we may be called upon to relent and see no other solution than to depend on the Lionguard too. Much of our commercial avenues and foreign political exchanges are already levelled at our eastern neighbors.”

An older nobleman from a venerable Krytan bloodline – the Haverades, she believes – vocalizes his own narrow opinion.  
“Well, maybe Lion’s Arch _should_ be a Krytan territory once more. After all, it is ours by ancestral legacy.”

A light approving hush surges around some of the other ministers, despite the coinciding scowls from others. Zodwa rolls her eyes in aggravation, as if this is not the first time the subject has been appointed.  
“Must I remind this agency that Lion’s Arch was abandoned long ago, by said Krytans? Unless Lord Haverades is hinting at open war against the Captain’s Council, the Commodore and its aggressively armed citizens? Once more, it would be Broadhollow’s responsibility to brave the brunt of such an inane act, lest you had neglected to pay attention. And no one seeks to burden us in such a fashion, I hope?”  
None dares to verbalize added thoughts on this matter, though Zodwa spies a favorable smirk from Countess Anise.  
“As I suspected. Then let’s proceed.”

With the headway of the talks going sluggish, Sov glances at Dae in her peripheral vision. The sylvari does hold the line, albeit with physical cues of boredom.  
“Entertained?”

Dae snaps out of whatever trance she was bound to have conjured up and clears her throat.  
“It is…not the worst I’ve ever witnessed.”

Sov chuckles amusedly.  
“Any comments so far?”

“Hmm…your mother is very smartly dressed, I have to admit.”

“Hah, okay, maybe it’s time for a recess.”

Just in advance of them leaving, they notice how Daytor, who’s overseeing the security, gazes their way.  
“Going anywhere specific, lady Sovica?”, he inquires.

She smiles reassuringly.  
“Merely for a stroll, nothing to get worked up about.”

“I see. If you go outside the wall, I can organize an escort-“

“That’s okay, Daytor. We’re not leaving the premises.”

He ends up offering a lighter version of her own expression.  
“As you wish.”

She’s well aware that the captain won’t be left in the dust completely, as he’ll likely send someone to guard them at a distance, if he’s not up to doing it on his own. And this is not solely for the sake of his duties – Zodwa and him share protective instincts in this context.  
As they walk off, they hear a poignant sound from one of the adjacent shrubs; meowing, to be exact. The vision which emerges arouses a bright smile from Dae.

“Auguro!” She throws a glimpse at her girlfriend. “That’s his name, right?”

“It is him, yes. Our fluffiest cat.”

“I love fluff!”

Upon approach, the thickly-furred brown cat meows in gentle greeting and as the sylvari follows Sov, she picks Auguro up while passing by, letting him purr at her ministrations.  
“It appears he’s taken a liking to you”, Sov comments happily.

“Hah, yeah. Something of a few and far between occurrence around here, feels like.”

Sov’s cheery mood disperses somewhat, though she doesn’t remark on it. Later on, as they slip past a few non-ministerial guests, Sov notes the side eyeing which Dae earns from them. Makes the heiress sigh.  
“There it is again”, she whispers.

Dae drags her focus from the cat to her lover, blinking perplexedly.  
“What?”

Meanwhile, Sov’s is directed ahead, trying to remain outwardly untouched.  
“People are…staring.”

“At what?”

“You. Some of our guests won’t stop being flagrant with their…aversion. Or whatever it’s meant to be.”  
Dae, oblivious of social subtlety, takes a gander of those who would decry her mobility, but most realign their aims by then.  
“I confess, it still irks me.”

“Why?”

Sov frowns and brushes some curls from her face.  
“Because their attitudes are condescending. It’s rude and unwarranted.”  
She clenches her hand slightly, but shifting back to Dae and the innocuous exterior, she simmers down.  
“But on reflection, my own sentiment is less pertinent than yours, dear.” She caresses her lover’s cheek with tender affection. “What do you feel?”

Dae willfully tilts her head further into the hand, though not so much out of consolation as fondness. She relishes being touched by Sov’s soft grasp, any day.  
“Mm, still debating that with myself. So far, people always treat my kind with a speck of suspicion. Guess it’s ‘cause we’re newbies to this world.  
But here, in the middle of all these nobles and what not, they’re apparently of the assumption that I’m unable to follow the concepts and logic. I mean…granted, wouldn’t call myself a political expert exactly, but this doesn’t amount to all sylvari being incapable.”

“Agreed. Their judgments are blinded and archaic.”

The sylvari rubs her fingers over Auguro’s ears, a gesture which sends the cat into cloud nine.  
“What do you make of it? Will these people try to separate us?”

Sov is not prepared for this twist, hence the facial bafflement, which gradually wears off.  
“What? Oh, no no, that’s quite farfetched, what with mother not opposing it. They can’t forbid us from loving each other. A black mark might arise on us, but strictly speaking, we’ve more or less been an outsider family in the realms of nobility since our inception. Miljana was a respected war hero, but the oldest Houses continue to doubt whether we’re worthy of the upper class status.”

“That sucks and sounds very unfair. Shouldn’t your record speak for itself?”

“You’d think. Plus, in the Ministry overall, there are plenty of inquiries and conflictions, due to our proximity to Lion’s Arch, both geographically and culturally. You presumably noticed this factor at the meeting.  
Where does our family truly stand with our allegiances? Have we strayed too close to the leadership of the bordering city-state or did we outright never give it up from the onset? These are some of the questions addressed to us for generations. And all this is in spite of the plethora of border disputes, as well as back and forth spats over resources that my mother has engaged in with both Lion’s Arch and independent landowners over the years. It’s insulting that they would distrust our loyalty, and yet many perpetuate the notion.”  
She sighs and pinches her nose.  
“I’ve never fathomed why people are so obstinate in this frame of mind, but I recognize that in one way or another, it could have an impact on our relationship too.”

Dae is listening firmly, though she does strike Sov as being a little lost for words for a couple of seconds, until she can handle a response.  
“When you told me politics among humans are difficult and complex, I trusted your word, but this is a bit dumb, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Her brusqueness, while sharp, does instill laughter in Sov, who rests her head on Dae’s shoulder.  
“You said it. This is not to indicate that I ever want to break anything off with you for mere paltry excuses, but I did believe it’s only fair you’re aware of it all. In the circles we’re obligated to frequent, facing conflicts and strife of this nature is standard fare.”

“Well, consider me informed!” She inclines her head and plants a kiss on Sov’s cheek.  
“And thanks for the heads up, darling. I’ll strap myself in. Perhaps in time, I shall prove the blunder they’ve imagined.”

“Fingers crossed.”  
At the end of their jaunt, they glimpse an out of the ordinary incident. They distinguish Baron Fevarro trotting outside the manner, seemingly scrutinizing and gauging it for…well, an unknown purpose. If Sov was so inclined, she could almost allege that he’s snooping, dubiously searching for an unknowable element. But such implications are absurd, aren’t they? He’s a Baron and a friend of the Vlasics to boot. He’s been at this house countless of times. Whatever the case, it impels Sov to speak.  
“Uh, Baron Fevarro? What’s going on?”

He marginally winces, before rectifying his pose.  
“Hmm? Of what do you speak?”

Is he feigning ignorance? Dae and Sov shares a glance.  
“Are you…looking for anything?”

“What? Oh, not at all!” He chuckles. “My apologies, I simply walked the wrong way. It has been an inordinate period of time since I last made a visit. I get confused. Which way to the library?”

Sov wavers whether to say anything at all, but eventually, she points him in the accurate direction.  
“Take the backdoor, second corridor to your left and then all the way to the end.”

“Ah, thank you! Most gracious of you, lady Sovica.”

As he goes on his way, Dae faces Sov with incredulous eyes.  
“What’s up with him?”

“I do not know, though he did seem…strange.” She shrugs it off. “Oh well, a quandary for another day. Let’s go fetch some refreshments.”


	21. Compatible

The day after the celebrations involving the Vlasics and their companions on the streets, serenity cannot be deemed to have resurged unfiltered, given all the visitors that wander its terrain, but it is without question less turbulent than the night’s carousal.  
To spare herself a wider berth, Derija elected to vacate the premises for a stint and headed on over to the southern slopes, with a wealth of hills, mountain ledges and plateaus. From here, she has a highly eye-catching vantage point, which would enthrall many outsiders. For her, however, it is a favorable site for monitoring movement and dubious activity inside the Vlasic manor.

This particular seat is one of her favorites in the whole region, a venue which Sovica exhibited for her many years ago. Her cousin likes it, but she doesn’t share the love with which Derija pours over it. The aesthetic values are astounding for viewing the Gendarran Fields for miles, and it does undoubtedly help that they provide an excellent angle for spying into the estate and town, if one carries the proper tools.  
Granted, the visual edge is not one-way, for she could easily be spotted from down below, if any observers simply lift their eyes to the heights. This is the distinct reason why none of the assistant Shining Blade agents could be deployed here, as Derija is the one with the best chance of coming off as realistically receiving the inclination to sit without ulterior motives.

In spite of swearing to a sense of safety and secrecy, this is not entirely the case, for there is in fact an individual who trespassed into her vicinity, albeit out of bounds from her vision.  
The dance which Derija and Katla intermingled in was gratifying and an eye-opener for both, yet while Derija found it most amusing, the norn was left a tad jarred. She had not anticipated the degree of emotions entailed.

The intimacy had not progressed to any subsequent pursuits, but it hadn’t been the intent of either, at any rate. Derija was satisfied with being able to sell the concept such as it were, and Katla was fine with the climax.  
Or so it was framed. An inquisitive nerve had struck Katla on the back of it and she couldn’t let go of its flow, which was accelerating into an engulfing torrent. She needed release, or at minimum, answers.

For the time being, she stands there and oscillates, from the other end of a pack of trees and bushes. She dearly wants to do away with pretense and just approach, but what would she say?  
Katla has never been regarded as a smooth talker, nor is she especially charming. Her aptitude with rhetoric or eloquent speech is limited, but it has never become an imperative. Women she has committed time and adoration for in the past were captivated by her stoic and dignified aura…as well as her physique. She’s a luscious image to some and doesn’t personally mind those judgments. Could it be the same with Derija or is the necromancer playing her?

This human is also a delicacy to behold, dressed as she is today in high black boots, tight embroidered dark grey pants, a thin long white scarf and a short-sleeved ruby-colored shirt with a zipper that she has pulled down somewhat, just in case an audience should manifest.  
Though Katla endeavors to stay cloaked, eventually, Derija’s whetted instincts warn her of a presence in her surroundings and she peers across at the thinly camouflaged setting where the norn is kneeling.

“Didn’t think I’d have an admirer to be under the scope of. Don’t be shy – show yourself and let’s speak face to face.”  
Katla is reluctant to step into the light, but in this circumstance, she really has no choice. After she forfeits her timid conceits, she materializes and strides with ample balance up the final slope and greets Derija with a taciturn nod. She nearly swallows audibly at the internal tremors she detects as Derija’s face illuminates on Katla’s form.  
“Well well, if it isn’t the carebear”, she says, her voice pervaded with smugness.

Katla sighs briefly.  
“…no.”

This prompts Derija to tilt her head.  
“No?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Derija lays a hand above her own mouth to muffle the snickering.  
“You can be so precious.”

“And you do this deliberately.”

“Most assuredly. I like watching you blush.”

Furrows crop up on Katla’s brow.  
“I don’t blush.”

Which, in turn, makes Derija flash her teeth in a grin.  
“We’ll see.”

As Katla strolls up the grassy hillside, she asks her next question out loud.  
“What are you doing up here? Pegged you as a social creature. This is far from any crowds.”

“Hmm. I will yield a certain level of accord to this belief, but it is not all I am.”  
Her gaze strays from Katla’s, to stretch across the landscape. They narrow somewhat as a gust blows past.  
“Up here, there is tranquility, a peace which few other lands can bear.”

“You’re into that?”

“Mm. I have a taste for reveling in this striking view and its diffusing ambience. Wouldn’t expect you to perceive it with the same lens.”

It isn’t the snow-painted mountains, but Katla won’t refuse the idea. It has a quiet polish, despite its bloody history.  
“It is…nice. Soothing.”

Is she unveiling her genuine value, or merely saying it because of the smile it garners from Derija?  
Whatever the deduction, with the topic kindled, the human navigates the matter back at Katla.  
“So then, my tall friend, what brings you to my peaks? More importantly, why were you scurrying behind the vegetation?”

Katla is initially silent, urging Derija to arch her brow expectantly. She will bring the Guardian to heel, until such time that an answer has sprung from her throat. Takes her a good ten count before she confers again.  
“…would you believe me if I said this trail was picked on a whim?”

“Hmm. No, I don’t believe I would.”

“…dammit. Didn’t figure you would either.”  
Now that she has ceased on a patch adjoining the necromancer, Katla’s shoulders slump in defeat. As awkward as she is to thaw it, she can’t prolong this charade.  
“The truth is…I caught you exiting the manor walls an hour ago.”

“And you followed me?”

“No, I…” She tries to come up with something else, any feasible alibi whatsoever, but none is handy. “…yes.”

Well, that only did more to elevate Derija’s ego, and her smirk.  
“How peculiar. And here I was presuming you thought of me as nothing but a nuisance.”

“Why?”

“You ask? Bearing in mind your mannerism towards me, it shouldn’t boggle you.”

“You think I dislike you?”

Derija shakes her head, corrects some of her hair. The latter is held in the same style as every day, resting over one shoulder.  
“Not precisely, but something along those general premises.”

Katla dwells on this outline for a spell, weighing her actions thus far. She would’ve wagered she gave away a hint or two, at least…why else had the necromancer made a bid?  
“Hmm.”

“Or has my conjecture rung false?”, Derija wonders curiously.

Due to various personal hitches, Katla halts by this at first, for there is a scent of something underneath the shell of it.  
“What if you were?”

“Well, then I would have to inquire where we stand.”

“You tell me. Do you feel I’m annoying?”

“A little bit, yes”, Derija states teasingly.

“Oh.”

“You’re quite pessimistic and your lack of communication is rather obnoxious.”

Katla realigns her eyes downwards.  
“I’m not good at talking.”

“We’re conversing at this exact moment, are we not?”

“Yes, but…not the same.”

“Quite so. I would also consider you to be fairly clumsy and inflexible. As well as arbitrary.”

The norn exhales, growing weary.  
“…okay. Should I leave? If you’re just gonna berate me…”

The marginally fragile pride of the norn sends Derija into another fit of giggle.  
“But those are mere preliminary impressions and far from able to demotivate my burgeoning investment. From what I’ve glimpsed, you’re also polite, adorably protective, accommodating…and very cute.”

“Yeah right”, Katla retorts skeptically.

“I’m not retreating on that front, cutiebear. You are incredibly sweet, so much so that I’d be more than keen to know you better and see all of your loveable facets.”

“…maybe I should clear out…”

Before she even has a chance to veer or develop the direction, Derija lifts a finger.  
“Uh-uh. You realize I can’t permit that, no? Not until I hear what you have to convey.”

An odd statement, in light of what they’ve played around so far.  
“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. You came here to shadow me, I’m under no illusion pertaining to that. But it does raise a question – why?”

Katla fixes on her, stonewalling in a way, as she attempts to be unfazed and impenetrable. Is this at all warranted, however, in their dilemma? Derija offered her candid sentiments, or at least a shade of her heart. Hard to say if it was the full story.  
Folding under the emotional pressure, Katla sighs in capitulation.  
“If you must know…I like you.”

Derija’s smile flutters.  
“Really?”

“Yes. You have a nice voice, you’re self-assured. And attractive. Very attractive.”

Enticed, Derija laughs fondly, though also a smidgen glibly, as if she relishes the thought.  
“Well now, you certainly didn’t masquerade it.”

“I don’t like to complicate things.”

“And you think I do?”

“I didn’t say so.”

The human slowly crosses her legs.  
“But you wouldn’t put it past me?”

“I wouldn’t know. Your honesty is…clouded.”

More than she’ll ever know.  
“Hmm. And you’re sharp-eared at that.”

“About as decent as my eyes.”

“You may well be, though the circulated rumor states that your sister is of the quicker wit.”

“…yeah. That holds true.”

A flash of a chuckle, but Derija prefers for them to not go adrift. This should center on them.  
“But you’re into me, I take it?”

Katla has stood statically for a few minutes now, and so shifts her weight to the opposite foot.  
“It’s what I said, yes.”

Derija snorts. She’s leery if it derives from humor or confusion.  
“It is rather early. I wouldn’t have assumed you’d be so forthcoming.”

“I don’t hide my interest.”

“Because you burn for more.”

Here, Katla stops, hesitates.  
“Well, yes.”

“Do you anticipate it?”

“No. But it won’t come at all, if I don’t tell.”

Whether inadvertently or as an astute ploy, Derija twirls her hair a little in consideration.  
“Curious. You’re so restrained in simpler innocuous affairs, yet not here.”

“It’s all relative.”

In this instance, Derija will have to give that one to her. She shrugs casually, at least outwardly.  
“Fine. Let’s say I might have…an interest in this fledgling fling of ours. Would you submit to a series of minor tests, to rate our compatibility?”

During her life, within matters of physicality and courtship, Katla can’t ever recall a situation like this. She blinks and looks down her body.  
“…for sex?”

In response, Derija almost chokes on her breath as she chortles.  
“No, you lughead! To see if I can stand being next to you!”

“Oh. Uh, right. Yeah, can do.”

After she has finally managed to smother additional laughter, Derija gestures with her hand for Katla to advance.  
“Come, sit.”

“Are you sure?”

“In so far as that I absolutely can’t do what I desire with you all the way over there, yes.”  
Having no qualms when Derija is the topic, she avidly cooperates.  
As Katla positions herself next to the other woman, Derija takes the opportunity to study her companion closely. She observes the scar once more, now more mindfully than during the dance.  
“Your mark, it really is right grisly.”

Katla huffs curtly.  
“You mentioned that.”

“Where did you receive it?”

“Fighting.”

The human’s lips curve upwards.  
“Tsk. So you do have a sense of humor after all. Your sister was wrong.”

One aspect of this intimacy is unequivocal – even seated, Katla towers above Derija like a lofty hill. The necromancer can’t avoid feeling small, if not exposed. Somehow, she gets no tells that Katla would endeavor to harm her, or at all utilize her height as a leverage.  
As to take charge of this interaction, Derija reproduces her previous jig and slides a hand in under Katla’s shirt, gleefully absorbing the Guardian’s staggering shift. She truly is well-built, enough to get the human psyched up.

“Excites you, doesn’t it? Oh yes, I did notice your spike last time too.”

Repeating herself, Katla swallows. Might not overhear, but she can see it.  
“Dunno what you mean.”

“Hah. Pretend all you like, I can see right through it.”

“You can’t. There’s nothing.”

Said quickly, but not steadily.  
“Your doubt only feeds my instincts and conviction even further.” She lapses closer across the ground, practically slanting against the norn. Her tone lowers sensuously.  
“I know what I want, Katla, and I’m banking on that you’re aware of the same.”

With a tangible tension between them, Katla has to be unwavering, resolute, yet staring at Derija’s eyes, she can’t summon the required mental resilience, not to its fullest degree.  
“Your hubris is going to get you in trouble.”

“Mm. Bold words for a woman who’s eating right out of my hand.”  
Katla’s turn to snort, both indignantly and amusedly, but she looks away, unsure what to bring up that wouldn’t sound silly. Derija, on the other hand, continues to stare intently.  
“Kiss me.”

Now, Katla jolts at these words and doubles back.  
“…excuse me?”

“Kiss me.”

The norn’s eyes searches Derija intensely, but there is no crack in her shield.  
“…now?”

“Well, not next week, that’s for sure. I will already have left this region by then.”

“But…what for?”

“Foolish question. You crave my company and while I find you…good on the eyes, I still don’t know if you’re up to my standards of physical performance. So _kiss me_.”

Her voice oozes with authority, of uncompromising merit. She may be a tad snobbish, as well as entitled, but she definitely wasn’t jesting earlier – she is wholly conscious of her will and how to attain it.  
Katla tarries on the implication for but an ephemeral phase, a time where she scans Derija’s visage, digesting her drive, be it from the heart or elsewhere. All she can discern is that the human does not retract from it. That’s sufficient.  
Deprived of any alerts, she acts speedily and puts a firm grip on Derija’s backside, to the necromancer’s swelling shock, and places her onto the lap. She then tilts her head, holding their chests affixed onto one another and encases the other woman’s lips in her own.

For starters, Derija merely takes it all in, comes to terms with the fact that she’s now making out with a woman she met no more than a few days ago, who she’s narrowly familiar with and hasn’t mounted an earnest date for. Still, it all feels so…liberating.  
To showcase her approval, she directs a hand onto Katla’s cheek, tenderly skimming it, and unshuts her lips to invite the norn deeper, to fully immerse them both in the inalienable satisfaction of each other’s skin. Katla won’t skirt around the fact that this woman is an exemplary kisser.

The more comprehensively they go, the more vigorous and libidinous Katla becomes, her hand travelling down Derija’s severely tantalizing, near irresistible body. Would that she could have the human here, without notions of fretting discovery or decency…  
In time, Katla acknowledges how stupid and unsuitable it would be to overextend, at least prior to ascertaining Derija’s motives on the matter. She just about gets around to enacting some self-discipline and breaks the link.

To her mild surprise, Derija displays signs of disappointment as it occurs, perhaps having longed for more, or on par with Katla, got really lost in the moment.  
The human catches her breath step by step and wipes her lips off.  
“Mm…”

“Good enough?”, the Guardian whispers.

Even more intriguing, Derija’s eyes linger shut for an extra few seconds and then incrementally flutters open.  
“Yes, it’s erm…” She unclogs her throat. “…sufficient. I imagine this will do.”

Katla suppresses a smirk of her own.  
“Positive you don’t have more to say?”

Heeding the relinquished tone, Derija draws her gaze to her partner’s and deciphers the expression; it is one she personally spurned. She grabs Katla’s chin with an authoritative grip.  
“Do not get cocky.”

Doesn’t help, for Katla’s spirit only thrives.  
“You seemed to like it, though.”

“Stop.”

_“A lot.”_

Derija breathes out from her nose, making an effort to restabilize herself. She should be the one prodding in a sly fashion, not the reverse.  
“Be that as it may…I can’t have you exceeding your station, Svalen.” She adjusts her place in Katla’s lap, but doesn’t depart.  
“I’m comfortable here. Get us back to the manor and into my room, if you please. We need to…confer on the specifics of this little exchange.”

With Derija reasserting herself, Katla can do nothing else than chuckle quietly and then effortlessly picks her up, allowing the human to sit on her forearm. She’s virtually weightless to the big norn.  
“By your leave, my lady.”

“Ooh, you possess some manners after all! Now that I approve of.”


End file.
